


Claudette's Campfire For Forlorn Killers

by WolfsHowl5678



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Halloween Event (Dead By Daylight), My friend was salty so I wrote to the original version instead, Original Freddy Krueger - Freeform, Please don't actually try and befriend serial killers, Serial Killers, Yes I know the freddy in game is based on the remake, weird relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:41:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 50,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfsHowl5678/pseuds/WolfsHowl5678
Summary: Claudette doesn't want anything to do with the killers outside of trials. Not one bit.That doesn't stop one of them from stumbling into her clearing, bleeding and asking to be healed. It also doesn't stop her from helping him out.She's always been to empathetic for her own good, and well....Common sense doesn't mean much in the Entity's realm.(Or: How Claudette accidentally befriends three killers simply because she's to nice of a person.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-notes: Yes, I know the Freddy in DBD is based off the remake. I didn't want to write the remake version and one of my friends hates the remake, so I wrote him based off the originals. 
> 
> This is all fiction and not at all accurate to real life, so please don't attempt to befriend/idolize real life serial killers.
> 
> Also, many of the events that I create have no basis in actual canon and I don't own DBD, so everything here is made up in my own head.
> 
> Don't like, don't read, simple as that.

Claudette was not entirely sure why she was staring out at the edge of the campfire. It was her own personal campfire, of course, because apparently the Entity wasn’t a complete jackass, so everyone got their own personal spaces away from everyone else. Granted, it was more than a little creepy, with the fog swirling and strange echos beyond the mist, blocking out the rest of the world. 

 

The Entity would come out and grab them every so often, dragging them into a communal campfire before sending them off to whatever new hell it wanted to force on them. However, she got enough time to actually sleep, and food was provided, so the Entity didn’t want them  _ actually _ dead. 

 

No matter how often they seemed to die.

 

So, here she was again, staring off into the fog. She should have been sleeping, or eating, or something. But she couldn’t bring herself to do anything, because whenever she closed her eyes, death replayed through her mind and nightmares wreaked havoc upon her subconscious. She couldn’t sleep, and eating anything made her want to vomit, too easily reminded of the barbeque hooks, and of the dead animals strewn throughout various hellscapes. 

 

So, instead, she stared quietly off into the fog.

 

And then, Freddy’s lullaby started playing.

 

She panicked, backing towards the fire, because the fire was supposed to mean safety from the Killers, and be her home in this hellscape.

 

Yet, even as she pressed close enough to feel the heat burning along her skin, her eyes dropped closed, and she found herself in the strange, ashen gray dream realm Freddy called home. 

 

He emerged from the fog, but none of his usual laughter rang out. Her mind was overwhelmed by the fight or flight instinct, but where could she go? What could she do? She couldn’t fight Freddy, but the only other place she could run was to one of the others campfires. She couldn’t do that to them. She wouldn’t make the Killer invade their safe havens.

 

Freddy came no closer than the very edges of her firelight, tilting his head. It was as if he was watching her, inspecting her. She noticed something glinting in the firelight, and realized he had a knife in his arm. More specifically, he had Myers’ knife in his arm.

 

“What happened?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, the old urge to protect and care surging up, even as she backed away. Freddy shrugged, stepping further into the light. She backed away further, feeling the flames licking hungrily at her legs.

 

“We had a disagreement of sorts. You are the medic, correct?” he asked, voice raspy and honestly terrifying. She didn’t think she’d ever actually heard him speak before, except for his terrifying laugh. She didn’t know how he got here, or why the hell he had come to her, but she nodded all the same. Of all the survivors, she was the best as healing wounds, although her actual medical knowledge was shoddy at best. Barely enough to know how to heal a knife wound like that.

 

Not that she was going to tell him that.

 

“Can you….?” He gestured to his shoulder, and she gave him an odd look.

 

“Why should I?” she questioned, half because she was terrified out of her mind, not at all thinking rationally, and half because she was curious. Why should she help one of the people who tried to kill her on a daily basis? Why should she help one of the people who gave her nightmares and kept her in this hellscape?

 

Freddy shrugged again, pulling out a medkit and throwing it to the ground in front of him. It was covered in blood, something that once upon a time would have made her shudder, and looked a bit worse for wear. But what caught her attention was the rarity of it. It was a ranger’s medkit: one of the hardest to find. She couldn’t help but dive for it, snatching it off the ground and scuttling back to her fire, clutching it tightly to her chest. 

 

Inside was a Styptic Agent and an Anti-Hemorrhagic Syringe, things she coveted with a passion. They were invaluable for healing quickly, and incredibly hard to get. She knew she could move them to one of her other medkits, exchanging and spreading the tiny bit of wealth she had just gotten, making it last a bit longer. 

 

So, eyeing Freddy, she ducked around the fire to where she kept her supplies, dropping the medkit in favor of one of the worse ones. It wasn’t the most common, so it should have what she needed in it, at the very least.

 

“Fine. Sit.” She gestured to one of the logs set up by the fire, and to her surprise he didn’t protest, simply sitting down. She scurried over, keeping half an eye on him as she inspected the wound.

 

The knife was plunged several inches into his arm, and while she was sure the Entity would heal it easily, it’d need stitches and a bandage. Black blood oozed out strangely from the wound, and she had to remind herself that Freddy, whatever he was, wasn’t human.

 

“Okay. I’m going to pull the knife out,” she said, half to him and half to herself. The handle felt weird in her grip, and as she held it an undeniable sense of wrongness overcame her. She steeled herself against it, gripping it tightly. It slid out easily with a hard tug, and she dropped it, already going for a needle and some bandages. 

 

“What kind of disagreement ends up with one of you getting stabbed?” she grumbled to herself, sewing up the wound. The black, blood-like stuff was disgusting, whatever it was, and she was hoping it wouldn’t stick to her hands. Freddy, for his part, seemed content to just let her do whatever, not making a move to stab her or anything. It was odd.

 

“We were debating the best ways to kill someone,” Freddy said bluntly, and her hands shook for a second. Right. Right. Psychotic mass murders would argue about that sort of thing, wouldn’t they? It made sense.

 

What didn’t make sense was why she was here, wasting a perfectly good medkit to patch up one of their arms after said argument. 

 

She wiped away the blood with a disinfectant swab, and wrapped it carefully, resolutely not looking at the Killer in front of her.

 

“There, all done,” she said, leaning back on her haunches as she inspected her work. It didn’t look half bad, all things considered. “Just remember, the stitches need to come out at some point, probably in a few days.”

 

She eyed his clawed hands carefully, weighing her words. “I suspect you’ll be able to take them out just fine on your own.”

 

Freddy stood with a nod, before turning and fading back into the fog. Her vision snapped back to normal, the colors almost blinding her for a second. 

 

She blinked rapidly, waiting for her vision to settle, then sighed.

 

Somehow, the world she was in now just seemed to keep getting crazier. 

 

~~

 

Freddy came back three matches later (because there was no night and day in this place, so the only thing she could keep track of was when the Entity dragged her off to play).

 

Her body was so exhausted at that point, having stayed up for so long out of fear, that she was almost surprised when Freddy appeared in front of her, bending down to look in her eyes. She hadn’t even heard him approaching, and she didn’t have the energy to flee. So, she stared back quietly, waiting for the inevitable moment when she got stabbed.

 

But, to her surprise, he didn’t attempt to kill her, only tilting his head, like a bird.

 

“You look awful,” he said, and she scowled.

 

“No shit, Sherlock; that’s what happens when you don’t sleep for long periods of time and get killed repeatedly. What do you want?”

 

She was too tired for this. She was too tired for this place in general, but getting visited by Killers on her downtime wasn’t in her pay grade.

 

“Myers wants his knife back, and …” he gestured to his arm, which now had clear signs of an infection in it. She groaned, half tempted to see if flinging herself into the fire would cause a more permanent end to her time here.

 

“Unbelievable. Fine, what do I get in return?” she asked, hauling herself to her feet. Her body violently protested the motion, and she swayed before making her way over to her stash of supplies. Freddy almost looked concerned for a moment, but it disappeared a second later. 

 

“Here,” he said, offering a tool box. She recognized it as Alex’s Tool box, although who the hell Alex was she’d never bothered to figure out. She’d have bet her left leg that there was a Brand New Part in there too. It was covered in blood, much like the medkit, but she didn’t bother to try and clean it off. Grabbing her own medkit, she swapped it for the toolbox, turning back to her things.

 

“Sit down, and don’t move. I have to remember where I put Myers’ knife,” she instructed firmly. She had moved Myers’ knife as far away from her things as she could without pushing it completely into the fog. She kept it in the hopes of maybe getting the brief satisfaction of stabbing the stalking prick with his own weapon, but the sense of  _ wrongness _ she got from it kept her from holding it for too long. She spotted it, glinting in the dark, and pulled it closer with her foot.

 

Swearing softly, she slowly maneuvered the knife over to where Freddy sat, kicking it across the ground. She hated touching the stupid thing, and really, why should she care if she looked dumb? Not like it mattered to Freddy.

 

After that, it was the simple process of taking care of the infection.

 

And by ‘simple’ she meant ‘difficult and extremely gross’. The wound was leaking pus, which meant she’d have to drain it first before cleaning it up. That - considering she didn’t even know the basic biology of whatever the fuck Freddy was - was going to be an experience. 

 

A disgusting experience.

 

“Well, off I go I guess,” she muttered, carefully wiping away the dirt and dried blood from the surrounding area. She could see vaguely where the pus was coming from, the slimy yellow liquid slowly oozing out. She repressed her gag reflex as she pressed gently on the area, watching more squirt out. Freddy said nothing, simply watching her curiously, and she tried her best to ignore him.

 

She took a syringe, gently puncturing the skin where she thought most of the pus was, and extracted it, willing away her own disgust as she did so. 

 

Eventually, she had drained all the pus, throwing the needles filled with the stuff into the fog. After that, she cleaned and carefully bandaged the wound, letting her more socially anxious side keep her silent. 

 

How had this become her life? Accepting bribes that probably came from previously murdered friends to patch up the Killers who were constantly trying to murder her? If she had tried to tell any of this to her younger self, she would have been called insane.

 

And yet, here she was: patching up Killers so they could go and continue killing her. Always fun times in wherever the hell they were, apparently.  

 

“There, all done. Now keep it clean this time, or it’s just going to get worse,” she instructed, sitting back with a sigh. Her eyes were drooping tiredly, even though they were already technically closed. Dreamworld physics didn’t follow normal logic, apparently. 

 

“Do you want me to make you sleep?” Freddy asked as he stood up, and she frowned.

 

“So you can kill me repeatedly in my dreams as well as here? No thanks,” she replied. Freddy shrugged at her defensive tone, turning and walking back towards the fog.

 

“I could make your sleep dreamless, if you wanted? Consider it part of the payment for your services?” he offered. She scoffed, and he shrugged again and left without another word.

  
“Well, at least he understands the idea of capitalism,” she said to herself, turning and making her way back over to the campfire. It didn’t matter much anyways: her body would crash on its own eventually, forcing her to sleep. 

 

Until then, she stared quietly into the fire. 

 

~~

 

Her next match she was up against Freddy. She never fell asleep once.

 

~~

 

Freddy showed up a few more times after that, always just to have her clean and rebandage the stab wound. Mostly they were both silent, in a way that can only come from being on opposites sides of this hellish war. 

 

He kept bringing her things in payment, tool boxes and medkits and flashlights and maps, all covered in blood and dust. She didn’t ask where he got them, just took her payment and set to work. 

 

That’s why it was such a shock when she felt her neck prickling, in the way that Myers was only ever able to achieve. She shot up, looking around wildly. Her eyes peered into the dark, scanning for the Killer, one part of her mind wondering ‘Why me?’

 

Myers appeared out of the darkness, startling a little squeak out of her. She eyed him warily, trying to figure out what he was here for. 

 

He stepped carefully into the circle of fire light, and she couldn’t tell anything from him. She pressed herself close to the fire, wary but curious.

 

“Help,” Myers said at last, gesturing vaguely to his shoulder. She stared at him, looking at the way he held himself, trying to see what could possibly require her help.

 

“That depends on why you need help,” she said quietly. Myers shrugged off the top of the denim coverall he was wearing, startling another small squeak out of her. Underneath was a plan black t-shirt which had a rather large hole in it. She could see a spreading, dark stain on the shirt as he pulled back the sleeve, revealing a rather large puncture wound.

 

She sharply sucked in a breath, looking at the wound. She knew that type of wound intimately, from healing one too many of those on her friends.

 

That was a wound you could only get from the Entity.

 

“Oh,” she breathed softly, caring instincts kicking in. She ducked around her fire, grabbing one of her medkits. She wouldn’t let anyone stay hurt like that. Not from that  _ Thing _ .

 

“Come on, sit down. I’ll need to sew up the wound,” she said, gesturing to the log Freddy normally sat on. Myers sat, and she sat beside him, wiping away the blood with a towel. At the very least, she thought to herself, he was human. So, if his wound got infected she would know how to treat it properly.

 

Her stitches were quick and precise, having spent far too long healing wounds just like this.

 

“What happened? I thought the Entity liked you guys?” she asked quietly, still somewhat scared. Myers was probably one of her least favorite of all the Killers, always sneaking around, and she was never really sure where he was. But, in this moment, she felt a sort of solidarity with him. He was hurt by the same thing that was hurting them all. 

 

“Not when we’ve failed.” His voice was clipped, scratchy and unused, and the implications were clear: If they don’t kill, they get killed. She wasn’t surprised that was how the Entity kept everything in line.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said out of nowhere. Maybe it was just her bleeding heart, but she was tired of seeing wounds like that on people. Maybe she was tired of everyone being trapped here, dancing to the whims of the Entity.

 

Maybe she just didn’t like seeing Myers brought so low.

 

Myers didn’t respond, and so they sat in silence as she finished bandaging the wound. He got up, pulled the denim coverall back over his shoulders, and slipped into the fog. 

 

She noticed, rather belatedly, that he had left a piece of petrified oak and a full moon bouquet behind. 

  
~~

 

She went against Myers later that day (night?), and was surprised. He never attacked her, never hooked her. He just watched her, stalked her.

 

He almost seemed… curious. 

 

~~

 

Freddy showed back up again sometime later, finding her staring exhaustedly into the fire. She didn’t flinch away from his presence anymore, although she doubted she’d ever truly be comfortable around him. 

 

“What happened this time?” she asked quietly, refusing to move her eyes from the fire. It looked odd in the strange grayscale world, but she didn’t mind as much anymore. 

 

Strange how quickly one could go from fear and hatred to oddly neutral.

 

“Nothing. I simply wished to thank you for what you did for Myers. Not many would have ever helped us Killers,” Freddy said carefully. She snorted, half derision and half disbelief. 

 

“I still don’t know why I bother to help; after all, it could only help me if you got injured and died. Yet, here we are.” She scoffed at the world around her, the fog and the mist and the fire.

 

“Still, you helped us,” Freddy pointed out, taking his usual spot next to her. She rolled her eyes, already wondering if this was going to become a regular thing too. 

 

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I’d never notice myself literally stitching you up,” she snarked back. She had to have a death wish at this point, with the helping and the sarcasm. No sane person would ever sit happily next to a known Killer and banter with them. 

 

And yet, and yet.

 

They sit in silence for a few moments, and she honestly expected him to get up and leave. He didn’t, instead shifting closer to the fire, picking up a stick and poking at it.

 

“Why did you help us?” Freddy asked. He sounded genuinely curious, and she found herself pondering the question.

 

“I don’t like seeing people hurt. It’s instinct. Something that’s gotten worse since…” she trailed off, leaving the words unspoken. It hangs heavy in the air between them, the reminder that though they may have found a small truce, they will forever be fighting on opposite sides.

 

She wonders, briefly, why Freddy stopped by. Just thanking her didn’t seem like the true reason behind it, not really. He hadn’t ever dropped by after she’d healed him unless he needed her. It seemed unlikely he would do it for another Killer.

 

“So, why are you really here?” she asked finally, unable to stand the silence. 

 

“Just got used to coming, I suppose. Nothing much else to do either way,” Freddy said with a shrug. She shrugged her shoulders as well, carefully reaching out to grab a stick and poke the fire, herself.

 

“Fair enough. Can’t tell you that it will be any more interesting here than wherever you usually stay, though,” she responded. 

 

They sat in silence for awhile, and she found herself wondering what Freddy’s story was. He had to be here for a reason, right? He was clearly good at what he did, which probably meant he had prior experience. 

 

Of course, none of her thoughts would stop her from letting him do almost whatever he wanted. As bad as it was, this world was teaching her to be pragmatic. If Freddy harbored any sort of even mildly affectionate or grateful feelings to her, the more likely it was that he would let her go in the trial. The guilt would probably eat her alive, but if it meant she never had to run in this godforsaken dream world again, then it would be worth it. 

 

So long as she didn’t develop any fond feelings for the mass murderer, she’d be fine.

 

“Aw hell,” she muttered, feeling the incessant tugging at her navel. It was usually the first warning sign she got that the Entity was going to grab her, and drag her into one of the trials. “Guess time’s up then.”   
  
Freddy, at the very least, seemed to understand what she was getting at, and with a tip of his dumb hat had wandered back into the fog.

 

She stood up, grabbing her stuff and preparing herself for the merciless chasing and slaughtering of herself and her friends. 

 

Gotta love the nightmare.

 

~~

 

Her hands are dirty and covered in sweat even as she attempts to fix up the generator. She hasn’t seen whoever the Killer is this trial, but she knows it’s only a matter of time before they stumble upon her.

 

She hated it here. It was hard not to fall into her own little animalistic mind set.

 

_ Find a generator. Fix it. Don’t get caught. _

 

Wash, rinse, repeat.

 

The generator clicks on with a chug, lighting up the area brilliantly. She scurried off, ducking between the trees of the red forest, scowling at the perpetual rain. 

 

A second later a bell rang out through the rain, and she realized who the Killer was.The Wraith had always been one of her favorites to go against, simply because he always seemed more reluctant to kill them.

 

She glanced back, seeing him looking around the generator, no doubt wondering where she’d gotten to. He headed off, opposite of her, and she noticed something else. 

 

He was limping.

 

The bone on his right leg was exposed, flesh shredded by what looked like serrated teeth. Blood dripped down it, and she grimaced. If she had to hazard a guess, she’d say he stepped in one of the Trappers traps. Based on the fact that Myers stabbed Freddy, she guessed the killers weren’t to torn up about hurting their fellows.

 

The advantage was slight, but it was there. He was slowed - not enough for them to stand a chance of getting away in a long chase, but it could buy them a couple seconds. And in this world, a couple extra seconds could be all they needed.

 

~~

 

She tumbled less than gracefully into her campfire clearing later, covered in blood and heaving. Pain was shooting up her sides from where she’d been hit, and she grit her teeth, crawling across the ground.

 

If she could just get to her medkits--

 

Hands grabbed her suddenly, and she let out a startled scream, instinctively attempting to wiggle out of the grip. 

 

The trial was too fresh in her mind, and she wiggled for all she was worth. It took her a second to realize the person was taking her over to her supplies. They dropped her rather unceremoniously onto the ground, and she wheezed as the breath was knocked out of her. But the medkits were in reach, and she reached forward, grabbing one of the them. It didn’t really matter which one, honestly, considering the Entity would heal her completely before the next trial.

 

Still, she twisted to wrap up her wounds, ignoring whoever was standing quietly by the fire. She could deal with them once she wasn’t bleeding out on the ground. 

 

It was easier, somehow, for her to sew up her own wounds rather than someone else's, even though it was significantly more painful. She knew when the needle had gone to deep, or not deep enough, and she knew her own injuries better. 

 

Soon as her wounds were stitched up, she got to work with a disinfectant wipe, carefully wiping away the blood and muck from the wound. She probably should have done that first, but experience had taught her that it was more important not to bleed out now rather than worry about an infection later.

 

When she finished cleaning it up, she looked to see who had picked her up. Myers stood there, watching her, and she let out a soft sigh.

 

“Alright, what do you need?” she asked, forcing herself into a sitting position. He gestured silently to the where the bandages were under his clothes, and she huffed.

 

“Okay, then come sit down, I can’t stand right now. Take off the denim too.”

 

He did as he was told, and soon enough she was throwing the old bandages into the fire, inspecting the stiches. They’d have to be left in for a few more days, but it seemed like he was healing faster than normal. Fine by her; she didn’t particularly like Myers on a good day. 

 

She rebandaged it, and then waved for Myers to leave, too tired to do any more talking than necessary.

 

“Oh, wait,” she said suddenly, stopping Myers just at the edge of the firelight. “Tell the--” she was about to say ‘the Wraith’, but she realized she didn’t actually know what the Wraith would be called. Instead, she pantomimed the bell.

 

“Tell the invisible bell dude to drop by if he wants some bandages too,” she said. She had no idea if Myers understood her request, but it didn’t matter much in the end. Whether or not he took her up on the offer, the Wraith was still going to try and kill her. Of that she held no delusions. 

 

Once Myers was gone, she let out a breath, relaxing into the ground. She hated dealing with the Killers. She didn’t quite get what the Entity’s game was though. She kind of understood keeping the survivors healthy, because, well: they were its food. What she didn’t get was why it seemed perfectly chill with letting the Killers get injured. It seemed like it would be somewhat detrimental to its goal. 

 

What was that saying again? Don't bite the hand that feeds you? It would make more sense to keep the Killers in top shape, and not let them just go around stabbing each other on a whim. But hey, who was she to question the Entity’s BS?

 

Either way, it was giving her a slight advantage, something she would happily take. It wasn't pleasant dying every day, but if she played nice with them and they decided not to constantly kill her, well, who was she to refuse? It made her feel a bit guilty though, since she still watched everyone else get hooked or hurt. Still, in this world, she was going to have to start putting herself first if she wanted to be able to help the others more, and not just go completely crazy.

 

So, play nice with the Killers, get advantages, help everyone else out. Simple, easy plan. Her conscious and morals would probably be dogging her for ages for hanging out with them though. 

 

She sighed, staring forlornly up at the strange canopy. There weren't even any stars to look at here, just a vast sky of branches and nothingness. It made her miss home with a passion, even though she knew that home was far out of her reach here. Maybe someday she could get home, but it wasn't likely.

 

Something shuffled in the corner of her firelight and she was up instantly, crouched and ready to run despite the violent protest of her wounds. All the stabbing had left her with a rather high pain tolerance, after all.

 

The Wraith stood at the edge of the light, clearly favoring one leg. His other leg hadn't gotten any better, seeping blood over the ground like a sluggish waterfall, the rank and coppery smell clear even from so far away. 

 

"So Myers actually told you, huh? Come on, come sit down, I just need to grab some more supplies," she said, motioning for him to sit on the usual log. He did so carefully, and she sighed, looking over her supplies. These guys were going to use up all her medkits at this rate.

 

She grabbed one and headed over, sitting with her back to the fire and pulling the Wraith’s leg into her lap. The damage was extensive, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

 

"Damn, it really did a number on you, huh?" she said, more to herself than to him. He said nothing, and she got to work, pressing the ripped flesh back into place when she could, wrapping and cleaning as she went. Even with the Killers’ accelerated healing, it would likely take a few days, or even weeks, to fully heal. She wondered what had happened that had landed him in the Trapper’s trap, but the Wraith didn't seem to feel like talking, and she sure as  _ hell  _ wasn't going to ask.

 

Wiping the blood off her hand, she sat back, wishing she could give him some sort of crutch to lean on.

 

"Alright, all done," she said. He nodded to her, standing up and limping his way back out of the clearing. He’d left a medkit on the ground, and she scooped it up eagerly. At least she could keep her supplies from depleting too quickly.

 

~~

 

Ending up completely shit-faced drunk while hanging out at Laurie's campfire wasn’t exactly how she had planned on spending her time, but it wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

 

How Laurie managed to get the Entity to let her drag the margarita machine out of a trial was beyond her, but most things were at this point. 

 

The world tilted pleasantly, and she felt truly warm for the first time in a while. Dwight made some stupid comment, causing a chorus of giggles across the clearing.

 

“Hey,” Meg hiccuped drunkenly, suggesting, “ Guys, guys, we should play fuck marry kill.” 

 

She nearly fell  over, and Claudette giggled at her, leaning over to help her up and nearly falling over, herself.

 

“I’m game,” Jake slurred, leaning closer to them. A few of the others voiced their agreement in various states of understandability, and soon they were all gathered around, chugging whatever alcohol they could get their hands on.

 

“Okay, okay, uhhhhh,” Meg giggled, leaning forward and frowning. Her face was twisted up in confusion as she tried to think of people, and Claudette giggled at the expression. Eventually, she listed off three popular celebrities that she claimed ‘Everyone should know!’.    
  
They went along these lines, drinking until her vision was getting fuzzy around the edges, and she could barely understand what anyone was saying.

 

“Oh, I’ve got a gooooooood oooooonnne,” someone said, and Claudette grinned wildly. 

 

“Okay, okay, Fuck marry kill: The Trapper, The Hillbilly, and the Wraith.”   
  
Several horrified squeals accompanied this statement, with several people calling out how weird that was. Surprisingly, it was Bill who answered first.

 

“Fuck the Trapper, marry the Wraith, and kill the Hillbilly,” he said gruffly, before downing an entire margarita in one go. “I never wanna say something like that again.”

 

“I hate that I’m saying this, but I agree with Bill,” Meg said with a hiccup. 

 

“You’re a fuckin’ fool if you think the Trapper would be better in bed than the Hillbilly,” David said with a snarl. Soon enough an argument had broken out, everyone taking sides until Nea broke in.

 

“Hey, guys, I’ve gotta ‘nother one,” she said with a laugh, “fuck marry kill: Myers, Freddy, and the Pig.”

 

Everyone froze for a second, jumping in surprise when Kate slammed her hand down on the ground.   
  
“I’d fuck the Pig,” she said proudly, grinning a little manically. “Gimme a rifle and I can and will live out that Cards Against Humanity card.”

 

Bill barked out a laugh, everyone else joining in. Claudette found herself on the ground, clutching her stomach, losing her mind at the image that Kate with a rifle produced. 

 

“But- wait wait- who would you marry then?” she gasped out, laughter overtaking her again. 

 

“I dunno, I didn’t think that far ahead,” Kate said with a snort, looking over to Laurie and Quentin. “Y’all know them the best right? What would you do?”

 

“Well, that depends on whether you’d want to marry a child murderer,” Quinten started, Laurie jumping in.

 

“Or a psychopathic stalker?” she finished. The mood in the clearing sobered considerably, Kate clearing her throat uncomfortably.

 

“Well, when you put it like that, maybe I’d be better off marrying the Pig,” she said. A few ripples of agreement came from around the group, everyone lapsing into silence afterwards.

 

“Fuck marry kill: the Doctor, The Nurse, or the Huntress?” Meg asked suddenly. Nea slapped the log behind her hard, wincing at the sound it made.

 

“If you’re not going to marry the Huntress, the OG lesbian, then we can’t be friends,” she proclaimed loudly. 

 

“But what if we’re gay?” Dwight questioned curiously. Nea pointed at him fiercely.

 

“Then you can stay but you’re on thin fucking ice.”

 

Claudette wasn’t finding as much joy in the conversation as the others. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Quinten and Laurie had said. She pictured Freddy and Myers, hanging out at her campfire - just there, while she was so vulnerable - and imagining what they’d done. Did the others have stories like that? Was she wrong to help them? 

 

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because Bill dropped next to her a second later, grunting softly.

 

“What’s wrong kid? You look like someone took a shit in your pie,” he said, taking another hard swallow of a margarita.

 

“Man, this fruity shit is wild,” he grumbled, and she chuckled lightly.

 

“It’s nothing, really, just tired I guess. I forget sometimes that the people we’re going against are like, actual Killers, and were actual killers,” she gestured vaguely with her hand towards the forest. “Outside of here.”

 

“They’re still killers, whether it’s out there or in here,” Bill said. “ I mean, they  _ do _ kill us on a day to day basis.”   
  
“Well, yeah, but it feels different in here somehow,” she said quietly. “Because we don’t actually die, it’s just like, our job or whatever. It doesn’t mean as much here.”

 

Bill gave her an odd look at that sentence, but didn’t say anything. He just took another sip of his drink.

  
“Well, kid, if you’ve started thinking of it like that, then you’ve already lost,” he said sagely. 

 

“.... Whatever you say, old man,” she replied, looking longingly at his drink. “I think I’m going back to my campfire for the night, but I’m getting some of that ‘fruity shit’ to go.” 

 

She stood up, swaying on her feet. She was going to sleep well tonight, at the very least. Hell of a headache tomorrow though.

 

She somehow made it over to the generator without falling, grabbing one of the glasses and scooping up as much of the alcoholic goodness as she could.

 

It was easy enough to slip away after that, everyone so caught up in their game they probably wouldn’t even notice she had left.

 

The fog swirled around her as she stepped into it, walking without any real direction, simply thinking of her own campfire, and of curling up on the ground and passing out. There was no direction in the Entity’s nightmare, and one could walk forever in the fog if you didn’t have a destination in mind. 

 

The world seemed to warp around her, and soon she saw the comforting flicker of her own firelight, the clearing covered in various plants being used to improve medkits. She stepped into it, intent on finishing off her own glass and then laying down, when she noticed Myers was sitting next to the campfire. 

 

He looked almost… petulant. Like a toddler who’d had their favorite toy stolen. Of course, whiny toddlers didn’t usually have violent knife wounds on their arm, but whatever. 

 

So Myers was in her clearing again. The Myers who was a creepy, psychotic killer. The Myers that had made Laurie fear for her life. Great.

 

“I’m out,” she muttered, turning around, fully intent on crashing literally anywhere but here, when the familiar sensation of falling asleep came over her. 

 

Freddy was here too then.  _ Great _ .

 

“Alright, what in the frick frack snick snack pady whack do you motherfuckers want?!” she scowled, turning around. And promptly tripping on her own feet. Fan-fucking-tastic.

 

Instead of trying to stop her fall, her hand went to cover her drink, trying to stop it from spilling. Luckily, it seemed that Myers, for all his creepiness, was actually kind of helpful. She didn’t even see him cross the clearing, and yet there was suddenly a hand grabbing her by the coat, picking her up like one might a kitten. 

 

And she kept from spilling her drink. Small mercies.

 

“I think it’s rather self-explanatory why we’re here,” Freddy drawled from the other side of the clearing. Myers’ knife was stuck in his shoulder again, and he looked irritated. 

 

“Yeah, well….” she trailed off, trying to remember where she was going with that sentence. “Uh…”

 

“...Are you drunk?” Freddy asked incredulously. She pouted, still awkwardly hanging from Myers grip.

 

“Fuck you,” she muttered. “Just…. Just fuck you.”

 

Her hand waved about vaguely in the air, and god she wasn’t nearly drunk enough to deal with this. She’d never be drunk enough to deal with this. 

 

“Great comeback,” Freddy deadpanned. She took one look at his face and almost wished Myers had stabbed him somewhere more personal.

 

But then she’d have to heal  _ that _ and nope nope nope. Not thinking about that. Not thinking about that at all. 

 

God, she wasn’t drunk enough for this.

 

“Ugh, fine, whatever just fucking  _ put me down already you overgrown lamppost jesus fuck _ -” she wiggled aggressively, but Myers refused to put her down.

 

“I think he’s afraid you might fall on you face and die, or something,” Freddy said. She saw Myers nod and scowled at the both of them.

 

“Dumb fucking  _ sentient tree _ fuck you bitch I can walk just fine,” she snarled, wiggling more vigorously. “God you two are just  _ so fucking tall _ you goddamn venti caramel frappuccino bitches.”

 

“.... Not even gonna ask.” Freddy moved away as Myers moved closer, unceremoniously dropping her on the ground.

 

“Oh, sure: I walk and I’ll  _ die, _ but you drop me face first onto a log and it’s just fuckin’ peachy,” she grumbled, carefully placing her drink on the ground before pulling herself into a sitting position. 

 

“Maybe we should just come back later,” Freddy said as she struggled to pull herself into a sitting position. She would have sworn that Myers glared at him for that suggestion, and he held up his hands innocently.

 

“Freddy I  _ will stab you _ ,” she growled. “You’re the one who showed up at my fucking bedroom equivalent and demanded I take a fucking knife out of your shoulder. You’ve made your bed now  _ lie in it _ .”

 

“Speaking of which,” she said as she tried and failed to open one of her medkits. “Why don’t you just go to the Nurse or the Doctor; you know, the Killers who actually probably have medical degrees?”

 

“Oh, well, funny story….” Freddy started. “Sally told me she’d need to remove my arm to get the knife out and Herman wanted to see what would happen if he sent a bunch of electricity through the metal of the blade.”

 

She started at him for a second.

 

“Who the fuck is  _ Sally _ ?”

 

A beat.

 

“Wait, the fucking Nurse’s name is  _ Sally _ ?? Does that mean the Doctor is named  _ Herman??  _ What sort of bullshit--” Myers clamped a hand over her mouth, effectively stopping her from speaking. She was going to find the sharpest tool she had and she was going to  _ murder him _ . 

 

“Well, his actual name is Michael,” Freddy said, gesturing to Myers.  _ What the fuck _ . 

 

“And my full name is Frederick Charles Krueger,” he said. Scratch her previous plans. She was going to get alcohol poisoning and just die.

 

Her voice was still muffled behind Myers’ hand - his name was fucking Michael what the  _ fuck  _ \- and she was just sitting there, screaming quietly.

 

She was sitting at her fucking campfire in the ass end of hell, with a stalker named  _ Michael _ and a child killer named  _ Frederick _ . Man, she’d just wanted to go for a fucking walk one day, how the hell had she ended up  _ here? _

 

Eventually, she just gave up, instead reaching for her medkit. She’d get the stupid thing open, she’d probably fuck up stitching them up, and she’d go to bed. Sober her could deal with this in the morning.

 

Myers, however, refused to move his hand, and her drunk mind decided  _ fuck it _ . The human jaw had enough power to bite off a finger with ease, and she was just drunk enough to probably do it. Live life to the fullest, or whatever.

 

Her teeth buried themselves in the flesh of Myers hand, and she heard him make a grunt of surprise before pulling away. She realized, abruptly, that he was also holding her upright, and as soon as he pulled away she fell sideways. 

 

Somehow, she ended up in Myers  _ lap _ , which, fantastic. Great. This was totally how she wanted her fucking night to go. 

 

Her chest was pressed uncomfortably into his legs, and she really,  _ really _ wished she could die for real in here.

 

“Great. Fantastic. God I’m going to fucking kill the Entity with my bare fucking hands because fuck that sentient piece of shit spider thing for making me end up here,” she spat, ungracefully rolling onto the ground because there was no way she was going to try and scramble off of Myers’ lap.

 

Rolling, however, was a  _ bad idea _ , her stomach lurching violently with the motion.  _ Fuck _ .

 

With the most coordination she had shown that night, she pushed herself upright, flinging herself to the edge of the clearing because Myers would probably just stab her if she threw up on him. Her stomach lurched again and she heaved, praying that the dumb fucking Killers would just  _ leave already _ and let her vomit her internal organs in peace.

 

No such luck.

 

“You should probably, like, drink some water or something,” Freddy said awkwardly. She turned around enough to glare at him, even as her stomach roiled in protest.

 

“Freddy, I will vomit in your stupid fucking hat and shove it down your throat, do  _ not  _ test me.”

 

Myers seemed to be shaking slightly, and she turned her glare on him.

 

“Don’t you fucking laugh you piece of shit, I will boil your teeth with my piss,” she snarled. The effect was ruined when her stomach heaved again, forcing her back to her awkward kneeling position.

 

Freddy was outright laughing now, probably at Myers, and she wondered if she could just crawl into the fog and hide there for the rest of her life. Maybe Nea would let her live at her campfire instead.

 

“Ugh, fuck, alright,” she said once the worst had passed. Her limbs were shaking badly now, and all the energy seemed to have left her body. “There’s no way I’m gonna be able to fix you guys up tonight, so just, come back tomorrow or whatever.”

 

She could almost _ feel _ them sharing a glance behind her back. She debated how much she’d hate herself in the morning if she just passed out right then and there, because fuck it. She was so fucking tired.

 

A second later a hand was grabbing her jacket again, hoisting her into the air. She looked backwards, seeing that it was Freddy who picked her up this time.

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ? You’re like a twig how are you lifting me with one hand?” she questioned. “You know what? Nevermind, I’m too tired for this.”   
  
“Good answer,” Freddy said, turning back to the fire. Her set her down gently next to the log, and Myers dropped a packet of disinfectant wipes in her lap. That was it. It was official. She had gone crazy. 

 

Here she was, drunk off her ass, covered in vomit, being taken care of by two murderers who had willingly killed her before, and would probably do so again. Life takes the weirdest turns sometimes.

 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it, personal hygiene,” she grumbled quietly, taking one of the disinfectant wipes and wiping down her face. And her throat and hands. And basically her entire body because she was just gross. When was the last time she had a bath? Probably too long.

 

She was understandably busy, barely awake, which she blamed completely for her reaction to having a blanket thrown on top of her.

 

“MOTHERFUCKER--”

 

Myers clamped a hand over her mouth again. 

 

When she had finally calmed down and Myers released her, she slumped down against the log.

 

“I am… too tired for this. Far, far too tired.” Her voice petered out, and she weakly fought against the two killers trying to shove another blanket under her head as a pillow.

 

“You guys are… so fucking weird….” she grumbled, curling up under the blanket. Her eyes closed of their own volition, and she sighed, her mind slowly shutting down. Their footsteps faded away, and she felt herself finally falling asleep. 

 

~~

 

When she woke up, it was to a pounding headache, a roaring fire, and a large glass of water in the place of her previous drink.

 

_ ‘I told you, you should drink some water ~Freddy’ _

 

“I fucking hate this place.”

 

~~

 

She spent most of the day (night?) waiting for Freddy and Myers to show back up and get their stab wounds healed. Because that was, you know,  _ what you were supposed to do when you had a stab wound _ .

 

So she was wholly unprepared when the Pig came charging into the clearing with wild abandon, running directly at the fire. And then into the fire. And through the fire.

 

So, she stared in shock as the Pig, now on fire, turned to her with pleading eyes. 

 

“You’re on fire,” she said, to busy staring at the scrap of flaming cloth to think of much else. The Pig made some sort of noise, and her eyes were drawn up to the Pig’s snout... where a reverse bear trap was stuck.

 

Unlike how it was normally supposed to work, instead of being on top of her head, she had managed to shove her nose (snout?) through the bottom of the trap, and get her snout stuck between the two top, securing wires.

 

“You…. Oh my god,” she said, completely flabbergasted. “That’s not how those are supposed to work.”

 

The Pig whined, reaching up and giving it a slight tug. She seemed to be saying that it was stuck, which,  _ duh _ . 

 

“Okay we should probably put out the fire first--” she started, the Pig whining quietly and shaking her head. A second later the trap beeped, which could only mean one thing.

 

“It’s fucking activated?! Oh my god how do you fuck up  _ that badly _ ?!” she screeched, running over quickly. Normally, the traps very brutally ripped your jaw open, killing you. But the Pig didn’t have it on normally, nor did she have a human head, so god only knows what the fuck would happen if it went off.

 

Claudette very much did not want to find out.

 

“Okay hold on just, uh, shit, you can’t just go to one of the boxy thingys or whatever?” she asked, digging through her toolbox for something that might be able to pry it off. The Pig shook her head again, whining as the beeping increased.

 

“Oh fuck, okay, here we go, just sit down and try not to die,” Claudette said, running over. She wedged her fingers beneath the sides of the trap, placing one foot firmly on the log behind the Pig, the other ending up semi-awkwardly against the Pig’s chest.

  
“Alright, here goes nothing,” she said, yanking against the trap. She could feel it moving slowly, but it wasn’t enough. The Pig whined again, and they could both tell it was getting far too close to going off. She wasn’t going to make it, and Claudette was going to end up with a whole bunch of dead Killer in her campfire.

 

“What are you doing?” Freddy’s voice echoed awkwardly across the empty space, and she whirled around, relieved. A second later she was in the dream world, and she gestured helplessly to the trap.

 

“Help me get it off her!” she screamed.

 

“Well, alright then,” Freddy said, surprisingly calm. He hurried over, one hand bracing against the Pig’s shoulder. The other, the one with the claws, hovered over the Pig’s snout.

 

“This is probably going to hurt, so, sorry I guess,” he said, managing to shove his claws between the Pig’s face and the trap. A second later he jerked his arm back, and the trap flew off with it. It landed in the fire, opening with a violent ‘snap’.

 

“Jesus christ Miss Piggy,” she said, rubbing a hand down her face.

 

“Uh, are you two aware you’re on fire?” Freddy asked suddenly, and yeah, maybe Claudette should have noticed a  _ violent burning pain _ in her leg, but at this point nothing would have phased her. 

 

“Hm, yeah, I should probably do something about that,” she said dazedly, looking down at where the fire was eating through her jeans. Damn, she really liked those jeans too. 

 

“Yeah, you might, darling, unless you wanna end up looking like me,” Freddy said. She stopped patting the fire down, looking up at him briefly.

 

“Good point, wouldn’t want to end up ugly like you,” she said. He looked offended, hand coming up over his heart like an overdramatic maiden in a Victorian era movie. 

 

“Why I  _ never- _ -” he started, stopping when she decided that she was finally going to use her elementary school knowledge. Needless to say, she didn’t think either of them were expecting her to ‘stop, drop, and roll’. 

 

Luckily, that put out the fire. Unluckily, both of the killers were now staring at her like she was insane. 

 

“Fuck you it worked,” she said, glancing down at the  _ still flaming _ pant leg of the Pig. “Are you gonna like, do something about that or like….?”

 

The Pig seemed to notice it -  _ finally  _ \- and grabbed the nearest source of water, dousing her pants. The nearest source of water happened to be the giant glass of water Freddy had left for her, which she had refused to drink on principle. 

 

Freddy gave her a dirty look, reaching behind him and pulling out another, larger, glass of water.

 

“Okay that was cool, but also;  _ what the fuck, where did that come from _ ,” she questioned, staring at the glass with trepidation.

 

“Welcome to the dreamworld, now drink,” he said, reaching over to hand her the glass. She backed away, shaking her head.

 

“Nuh-uh, you are not getting me to drink your magic dream water,” she said, backing away as he approached. He sighed quietly, stepping closer and closer until she was backed into the edge of the fire.

 

“Drink. It.” he commanded.

 

“No,” she shot back. He lunged suddenly, and she ducked out of the way, screeching.

 

“Drink it!”

 

“No!!”

 

“ _ Drink the fucking water!!” _

 

_ “Fuck you!!!” _

 

Their chase continued around the clearing, Claudette ducking and tumbling out of the way every time Freddy made a grab for her.

 

“It’s good for you!”

 

“God, what are you, my dad?!”

 

It was at that point she remembered the Pig was still in the clearing. And by ‘remember’, she meant ‘forgot she was there and ran straight into her, sending them both tumbling over a log’.

 

“Holy  _ shit _ \--” she screeched, tumbling over the log and landing face first on the Pig. Or, more accurately, shoving herself face first into the Pig’s  _ chest _ . 

 

God her life just keeps getting weirder.

 

“Wow you have a lot of blood on you,” she mumbled, lifting herself up awkwardly. It was at that point she also realized not all the blood was coming from the Pig.

 

“Aw hell, I think I broke my nose,” she muttered, feeling the warm drip of the blood down her chin. Her nose was starting to hurt now, and she sighed, wishing she’d never agreed to help Freddy in the first place. The fucking medkit was not worth all this bullshit.

 

“Oh, uh, shit, sit down, uh….” Freddy said, picking her up again and dropping her back onto the log. The Pig clambered up next to her, her snout still bleeding from Freddy’s claw. Right. That was a thing she should probably fix.

 

“Oh hell what do we do…” Freddy muttered, more to himself than them. Suddenly, the Pig piped up from beside her, voice smooth and mellifluous.

 

“Pinch the nose to stop the bleeding?” she suggested. Freddy lit up at her suggestion, nodding.

 

“Oh, of course,” he said. Claudette suddenly realized he was reaching out to do it himself, using his clawed hand.

 

“Bro what the fuck,” she snarled, voice almost unintelligible. She jerked backwards, ending up falling off the log and landing hard on her back. She wheezed, looking up as footsteps approached. Myers towered above her, staring down at her curiously. She waved, realizing her face was probably covered in blood. What an odd collection of people they must have made.

 

“Hi Myers,” she said, although it sounded more like ‘Heh Myeers ‘. 

 

He gave Freddy a Look, stepping over her and retrieving a medkit. She could feel the blood flowing down her throat now, ick, and sat up, pinching her nose shut. 

 

Myers gently dropped the medkit in her lap, and she nodded to him thankfully, opening it quickly and grabbing the things she needed. After wiping away most of the blood, she grabbed several disinfectants, some of the sewing supplies, and bandages, and got ready to actually do what she was supposed to be doing.

 

It was also the moment when Bill decided to make an appearance.

 

“Hey Claudette, wanted to check in after last night and all, was wondering if you were okay--” he said, stepping into the clearing. She froze, as did the others, everyone staring at him wide eyed.

 

“I am not drunk enough for this,” he said, before promptly turning around and walking away. 

 

In the distance she faintly heard Bill asking Laurie if she still had the margarita machine. God, she hoped she did.

 

“Well, that happened,” she said, snapping everyone out of their stupor. “Okay, time to actually do shit.”

 

She started on the Pig first, mostly as a fuck you to Freddy (people who chase her around yelling at her to drink a glass of water can keep their fucking stab wounds), easily sewing up the claw marks and bandaging it as well as she could. The Pig’s flesh was different than a human’s, but it was similar enough that Claudette would assume it would heal the same way.

 

Then, she gestured to Myers, all but demanding he sit down so she could look at his injuries. He looked almost like he wanted to protest, but she gave him a Look and he sat down with a thump. His wounds were easy to fix, basic stuff she had figured out within a few days of Freddy first killing her and the other survivors. He always had the same style of slashing.

 

After that, she turned to Freddy with a sigh.

 

“Fine, your turn,” she said.

 

“Your nose is still broken, and lass, your leg is kinda burned… Maybe you should do those first?” he said carefully. She all but snarled at him.

 

“I get stabbed, hit, hooked, and brutally murdered on a day-to-day basis, my injuries can wait a little while. Now  _ sit down _ .”

 

She yanked out the knife with little fanfare, immediately flinging it haphazardly behind her. Myers let out a small grunt of pain, and she turned around.

 

She’d accidentally thrown the knife directly into Myers’ leg. God, she was just a walking human disaster at this point.

 

The Pig reached over, gabbing the knife and yanking it out, leaning to begin poking at the fire. Right. There was a reverse bear trap stuck in the flames. Okay. One thing at a time.

 

“Clearly god doesn’t exist here or else I wouldn’t be terrible at everything,” she muttered to herself, carefully sewing up the original knife wound. She’d have to bandage Myers’ leg wound now as well. And figure out how to get a fucking reverse bear trap out of her campfire. One step at a time, Claudette, one step at a time.

 

Once she finished up with Freddy, she turned around, preparing to heal Myers’ newly acquired knife wound.

 

What she found instead was Myers looming over the Pig, who was oblivious, instead using the knife to try and poke the trap out of the fire. Oh boy. Ooooh boy.

 

“Well, this has been fun, good luck!” Freddy said cheerfully before basically sprinting out of the clearing. It made her wonder if someone had taken Myers’ knife before. Well, it had spent a little while at her campfire after the first time Freddy had been stabbed. No wonder he disappeared so quickly.

 

Myers made a noise in the back of his throat, a deep sort of growl that reminded her of a dog. It was enough to shock the Pig out of her focused state, and she looked back fearfully, staring up at Myers.

 

“Sorry….?” she said quietly, holding up the knife like a peace offering. Myers snatched it out of her hand forcefully, keeping a deadly looking grip on it as he stalked back over to Claudette. She shrugged, deciding it wasn’t her job to interfere, just to patch them up if they decided to kill each other.

 

Luckily, she was pretty weak as far as throwing things goes, so the wound on Myers’ leg wasn’t too bad. She had it fixed up in barely a minute, and Myers stood up and walked away without another word. Not that he really spoke anyways, but, well, whatever.

 

“Okay great, time to get a burning hot piece of metal out of my fire,” she rubbed her face, abruptly remembering she had her own wounds to tend to when her nose jolted painfully. “Or not….”

 

With a sigh, she sat on the ground, searching through some of her medkits. Of course, none of them contained any burn cream, since they were supposed to be used for various bludgeoning/stabbing injuries. So the best she could probably do was leave the burn alone and hope it figured itself out. Or die and hope when she came back it was gone. One of the two.

 

As for the broken nose, well. She wasn’t sure there was much she could do for it. She wasn’t a medical doctor, she just happened to know some good healing tricks. How to deal with a broken nose? Not so much. Maybe it’d just be fine on its own.

 

Great, so: time to get the stupid trap out of the fire. Looking around, she searched for some sort of stick that would be long enough to prod it out of the flames. Breaking a branch off one of the trees, she sighed, watching as it automatically regrew. Nothing stayed changed for long in here.

 

Carefully, she made her way back over to the Pig, handing her the stick, walking off to get another one.

 

“So, what’s your name anyways? It feels odd to keep calling you ‘the Pig’ in my head,” she asked conversationally. Another violent tug and she had a stick of her own, hoping it wouldn’t burn up to quickly.

 

“.... I used to be called Amanda,” the Pig, Amanda, responded. The fire crackled merily, and she crouched down next to Amanda, poking her own stick into the fire. It didn’t seem to be burning very fast, thankfully, and some skillful maneuvering had the trap close enough to grab. She reached for a shorter stick, carefully yanking the trap out of the fire. It tumbled out ungracefully, scorching the ground as it rolled. 

 

She and Amanda leaped out of the way, watching and waiting for the trap to stop rolling. The metal glowed red hot, although it hadn’t started melting or anything. She was guessing they were going to have to spend a while waiting for the metal to cool down.

 

“Alright, cool, stick around as long as you want, I’m going to sleep because I am never awake enough to deal with everything that just went down,” she said, standing and stretching. She prepared to go lay down, the exhaustion once again pulling at her bones, when she felt the gentle tugging at her navel.

 

“Oh hell,” she said quietly, changing directions to grab a toolbox. Amanda stood up as well, eyes locked onto something deep in the forest.

 

“I have to go,” she said, before taking off. Claudette watched her go with mild surprise.

 

“...Bye then?” she said to the empty air, feeling the Entity’s claws wrapping around her middle and jerking her off to the trials. 

 

Today was going just dandy.

 

~~

 

They were against the Pig. She wasn’t even surprised anymore.

 

~~

 

“Hey, Laurie, can I come over and get drunk?” she asked once they had escaped. She had been hooked, but only once, and she got lucky enough to not get a trap on her head. Her shoulders ached, but she ignored it, more than used to the twinging pain.

 

“Sure. Why?” Laurie questioned curiously. Claudette didn’t want to say that it was because she was trying desperately to avoid thinking about everything, because otherwise she knew she was going to have a mental breakdown.

 

“I have nothing better to do,” she responded instead. She could feel her consciousness trying to yell at her, still trying to process everything she had been told the last time she had gotten drunk. It made her wonder if all the other Killers had done something similar. How many people had they killed before they ended up here?

 

And she was helping them and getting drunk near them and almost considering them friends. And man, how eff-ed up was that?

 

So, clearly, the best way to deal with it was to get drunk as much and as often as possible, until the trama caught up with her and she broke. But that was a problem for later-her, not current-her.

 

“Right.” Laurie clearly didn’t believe her explanation, but the woman was nice enough not to ask any more questions. And that was all Claudette needed.

 

“I’ll invite some of the others along too, then,” Laurie said, and Claudette knew the jig was up. Laurie knew she wasn’t gonna get answers, so she was going to employ more underhanded methods. Mainly, one by the name of Meg Thomas.

 

Meg was one of the first survivors to have shown up, and both being females, they had clung to each other more than to Jake or Dwight. Their fast friendship had only grown, and in the end Claudette would say Meg knew her better than anyone else, in this world or in the other. But that also meant that Meg would be the only one who could pry her troubles out of her.

 

“Fine by me,” she lied, wishing her life was less complicated. She could feel her thoughts slipping in, too loud, and clanging against each other: Wondering who Amanda had killed; if they were all fine with what they had done; wondering how she could start befriending people who were so intrinsically  _ wrong _ .

 

“Great, drop by in a little while then,” Laurie said, before vanishing into the fog. Claudette sighed, rolling her shoulder. She had too long to sit and think, and it was going to drive her mad. Moral dilemmas had never been her forte.

 

“Okay, great, cool, maybe I can just disassociate until everything makes sense,” she said to herself, walking aimlessly through the fog. She didn’t want to go back to her own campfire, because they might be there, and she didn’t want the reminder that she had become almost friendly with the two killers that had made her other friends’ lives hell before even coming here.

 

So, morally, there wasn’t really a good argument she could make for it. Morally, what she should do is never talk to them, never speak to them, and shun them because they were crazy and kept trying and succeeding at killing her.

 

_ Logically _ , however, her ideas made perfect sense. How do you keep yourself alive when everyone's trying to kill you? Simple. You find the biggest, baddest person, the alpha, the top dog, whatever, and you make yourself useful. Doesn’t matter if your important, you just have to be useful, and they’ll keep you around for that reason. Make yourself indispensable, irreplaceable, and they’ll treat you fairly, because you have something they want, and they have something you want. 

 

It was simple logic she used to justify what she was doing now. She had been afforded the opportunity to get an in with one of the Entity’s attack dogs, and through him get to the rest. They have the ability to not kill her, and she has the ability to heal them when they get hurt. It was a business trade, nothing more.

 

Except that only worked so far as helping and healing them went. It didn’t account for them taking care of her when she was drunk, or showing up at her fire just to talk, or whatever the fuck else. So, she could justify helping them, and use her scientific side to beat down her morals, but being friendly was a whole other can of worms.

 

Satisfied with figuring one section of her issues out, she stood up, thinking of the warmth of Laurie’s fire. She stepped out, seeing everyone else already there, lingering and lurking in groups. It was easy enough to grab a drink and find her way over to Meg, who was clearly waiting for her.

 

“Uh-oh, you’re wearing the Face again,” Meg said as she approached. She gave her friend a look of confusion, and Meg shook her head fondly.

 

“You always have the same look when you’re overthinking things. Now, tell me what's wrong,” Meg said, sitting down on the log. The clearing magically expanded to accommodate everyone, so they were secreted away in the corner. Based on the fact that everyone else was also giving them a wide berth, she guessed everyone had been informed what was going on.

 

She dropped down onto the log next to her closest friend with a sigh.

 

“Am I allowed to get tipsy before this happens, at least?” she asked, taking a big swig of the margarita. Meg sighed but nodded, and so they sat in silence, both sipping their drinks. Once she had run out of her drink, she was feeling pleasantly tispy, and happy to talk to her friend.

 

“So, what’s up?” Meg asked, slowly sipping her drink. Claudette smiled at her friend, glad that, at the very least, they could depend on each other in here. She didn’t know if she would have survived so long without her friends.

 

“Weeeeelllllll….” she stalled, grinning slightly. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stop it completely, but she wanted to be as drunk as possible when Meg found out she was hanging out with the Killers.

 

“Just spit it out Claudette,” Meg said, although there was that smidgen of affection in her voice that made Claudette feel warm inside. She didn’t want to lose that warmth, especially by admitting she had developed a strange sort of fondness for the Killers who hunted them like animals on a day to day basis.

 

Not that it mattered much though. The secret would come out eventually, whether she wanted it to or not. Secrets had a way of doing that.

 

There was also the fact Bill had seen them earlier, and he was likely to ask about it at some point. 

 

“So, hypothetically speaking….” she started, biting her lip. She wondered how to word it properly, show whatever the hell was going on in a nicer light. “If I were to have possibly accidentally maybe have healed a wound for Freddy, Myers, The Wraith, and the Pig, and possibly now be on my way to semi-being friends with them, what would you say?”

 

Meg was staring at her, mouth dropped open in shock. Her drink sat forgotten, and Claudette winced. Yeah, she probably could have said that better.

 

“Oh. My god. Oh my god. Claudette, what the  _ fuck _ ,” Meg said, finally finding her voice. She shrugged in response to her friend’s outburst, quickly taking another swig of her drink. She was going to need to be more drunk if she wanted to survive this encounter.

 

“... It was an accident…?” she offered, like a half baked apology. Meg groaned and buried her face in her hands, kicking over her drink in a fit.

 

“You are,” she started, “completely unbelievable. Oh my god.  _ Oh my god _ . Why?!”

 

“They gave me things. Capitalism and all, goods and services. They offered me medkits and toolboxes and rare things, and I patched up their various stab wounds or trap injuries and sent them on their way,” she explained quietly. It sounded kind of stupid, but it had made sense at the time. “Also I’m pretty sure they would have killed me if I refused the first time.”

 

“You are,” Meg muttered, glaring up at her through her hands, “utterly and completely awful and I hate how much sense everything is making now. How long has this been going on?”   
  
“A while?” Claudette responded hesitantly. She had no idea how long it had actually been, considering time was funky here, but it was long enough. Meg groaned again, ducking back down into her hands.

 

“Ugh, alright, alright, we can deal with this. We can…” Meg scrubbed a hand down her face, looking up. “We can deal with this. But first, we aren’t drunk enough for it.” She stood up, as if to go get some drinks, and froze, staring wide eyed into the forest. Claudette followed her gaze and sucked in a sharp breathe.

 

Myers stood at the very edge of the firelight, hidden mostly among the shadows. She had gotten so used to the feeling of him staring at her that she hadn’t noticed, but there was no doubt that he was looking right at her.

 

Meg’s breath stuttered in her chest, and Claudette was more alert immediately. She knew everyone here suffered from panic attacks and PTSD from all their time dying. She also knew Meg had it worse because she hadn’t dealt with things like that prior to her life here, so she didn’t know what to do.

  
“Hey, hey, Meg, look at me, come on,” she murmured quietly. She carefully stepped in front of Meg, blocking her view of Myers. “Come on, sweetheart, you’re safe here.”

 

Meg took a shaky step backwards, eyes still staring sightlessly at where Myers was standing. She could hear her friend’s ragged breathing, getting more panicked by the second. She bumped into the log and Claudette reached out, gently grabbing and steadying her friend.

 

“Meg, hey, come on, focus on me. Count with me, okay?” Claudette said, trying to keep her friend from falling farther into panic. She barely noticed everyone else looking at her until she heard Ace scream.

 

“MYERS! EVERYONE SCATTER!” 

 

Claudette could feel the panic sweep over the clearing like a wave. Meg let out a terrified whimper, and Claudette cursed under her breath.This was not helping the situation.

 

“Hey, Meg, come on, breath with me, focus on me,” she repeated calmly, hearing everyone else scrambling to get away.

 

“SAVE THE ALCOHOL!” Bill shouted, and she spared a second to laugh at him. Of course that would be what he was concerned about.

 

Suddenly, she felt Myers standing behind her, that same shiver that always went up her spine when she was in a trial. Without looking away from Meg, she spoke.   
  
“Myers if you do not leave right now, I will take your knife and shove it so far up your ass that you will be able to taste it, are we clear?” she demanded coldly. A second later she heard his footsteps retreating, and she focused her attention back on Meg. She was going to kill Myers when she saw him again, but for now her friend needed her.   
  
~~

 

Stumbling back into her campfire clearing, she felt exhaustion sinking into her bones. She had spent a long while helping Meg come down from her panic attack, talking about old actors and shows and movies and anything else she could think of, trying to distract her friend. It had worked eventually, but the experience had left them both exhausted, and Meg had fallen asleep soon after.    
  
She would have passed out right next to her friend, but she figured Myers would be waiting for her in her own clearing. If she didn’t take care of that, he might try and find her again.

 

So, she stumbled in, saw Myers sitting awkwardly on the log by the fire, and she went off.

 

There was a reason people always said she was empathetic, a reason the Entity gave her the power to heal and help in trials. Her heart was so full of love for others, and somehow she had accidentally let these Killers wiggle their way in. But now, now that they were stupid enough, and assholish enough to pull that shit, she was losing it.

 

“What,” she started coldly, glaring for all her worth at Myers. A flame raged inside her, angry and wrathful, something that ignited her mind and burned through her limbs. “The  _ fuck _ were you thinking?!”

 

Myers said nothing, only staring up at her. Blank, expressionless. She hated it.  _ She hated it,  _ _ she hated it,  _ **_she hated it._ **

 

“God, aren’t you fucking smart enough to not come where you’re not wanted?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she screamed, taking a step towards him. The fury was lacing her voice, echoing through her bones, reverberating through her being. “You can’t just show up where the people you  _ kill _ are trying to  _ relax _ and not  _ have to deal with your bullshit _ and you just  _ show up?!” _

 

She reeled her anger in, pulling the inferno inside, compressing it until it was so hot it was cold. The frozen flame leaked along her being, until she stood, expression blank, staring emptily at Myers. She hardly even noticed being pulled into the dream world.

 

“Please, tell me what was so important that you had to show up and get me. Really,  _ I would love to know. _ ” Her voice was frozen, glacier-like, and she kept her expression blank. It was her mask, her shield and her cover.

 

Myers said nothing, but she noticed a small cut on his arm, and she closed her eyes, sighed, and moved over to grab a medkit. She probably searched for one with a little more force than necessary, but it didn’t matter.  

 

“We were wanting to make sure you were okay, is all,” Freddy offered, and she turned to him. Her hand wrapped around a toolbox instead, and she turned to Myers. She didn’t know what his mask was made of, but she would bet a toolbox would  _ hurt _ . 

 

“Is that true?” she asked coldly. Her voice was almost pleasant. Almost.

 

Myers hesitated, then nodded, and she felt everything crystalize into a single, icy rage.

 

“So, you thought I wouldn’t be safe enough and cared for enough with my friends who constantly try and help and heal me, so you came over there - someone who kills and murders us on a daily basis - to make sure I was fine?”

 

She was almost in front of Myers now, everything condensed into one point, one action. He nodded again, almost awkwardly, but she held no sympathy.

 

Her arm drew back, toolbox in hand, and she swung it at him with all her rage, all her hatred and her fear and her pain. The toolbox connected with a violent smack, and Myers head jerked to the side. She huffed, feeling the mask fall, instead a primal, terrible rage taking its place.

 

“Get out.” She all but snarled it, teeth bared and spitting with fury. Her breath heaved in her lungs, too much wasted on them, too much time and energy.

 

Neither Myers or Freddy made a move to leave, and she could feel her angry building.

 

“I said,” she snapped, raising the toolbox again. “ _ Get. Out.” _

 

Freddy stood up, looking like he was going to intervene, but before he could she felt the cold steel of Myers blade against her throat.

 

It hovered, barely over her skin, enough to feel but not cut, and she hated it.

 

“Do it,” she snarled, pressing just a little bit closer. She could feel the bite of the blade, the blood oozing out of the cut. She was beyond caring at this point. Death meant nothing here.

 

“What death will it be this time? Hundredth? Two hundredth? How many times will you have killed me with this?” With every word she spoke she could feel the blade pressing deeper, blood flowing down her throat and onto her clothes. She didn’t care. He had hurt her friend, had hurt her again and again and again. She didn’t know how she had forgotten what monsters these people were.

 

“Come on, it’s not like it means anything. I mean, you’re not even human, just some fucking pet the Entity plays with. What does it matter?” She pressed just a little closer, the burn of the blade against her flesh searing in its intensity. “What does one more death matter to you?”

 

She looked him in the eyes, daring him, challenging him.  _ Do it _ , she thought.  _ I dare you _ . 

 

The knife pulled away from her throat, and Myers ducked his head, hunching backwards.

 

He’d backed down.  _ He’d fucking backed down _ .

 

“Coward,” she snarled, turning and walking away. She dropped the toolbox by the edge of the clearing, disappearing into the fog without another thought. Fuck this.

 

_ Fuck this. _

 

She didn’t know how long or how far she wandered, passing through the fog. The anger still simmered under her skin, and she wanted to hit something.

 

Eventually, though, it dwindled, as the blood spilled and pooled, staining her shirt crimson. The blood loss was making her feel lightheaded, and she stumbled into a tree, sliding down it and laying at the base. She’d probably die there, if she was honest. It didn’t mean anything in this world, death. It was simply a fact that happened again and again and again. It had become like sleeping, or eating. A daily ritual of this specific hell. 

 

She felt her eyes sliding shut, and she hoped to god she died, and woke up, and never ever saw any of the killers ever again.

 

~~

 

When she woke up, it was slowly, to Meg’s face staring down at her, concerned. Her throat burned, and she coughed, feeling exhausted and like she had been run over by a truck all at the same time.

 

“What?” she questioned, surprised when Meg shushed her, handing her a glass of water.

 

“One of your… friends dropped you off here last night. Apparently, you passed out in the fog and nearly died. They did the best they could to patch up your throat, but…” Meg said, trailing off.

 

“My ‘friends’?” she asked skeptically. Meg nodded, biting her lip.

 

“Yeah, they scared the shit out of me, too, waking me up with you covered in blood and all,” she said. Claudette looked at her friend, trying to decide if she was alright.

 

“Which ‘friends’?” she asked, and Meg winced.

 

“Freddy, I think; I could only really hear his lullaby. Myers was the one carrying you,” she said. Claudette felt the fury from the night before return, although dulled somewhat. She gave a bitter, broken laugh, leaning back to the ground.

 

“Fuckers can’t even let me die now, can they,” she scoffed. Meg didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

 

“.... What did you do to Myers?” she asked after a few minutes of silence. Claudette winced, remembering what she’d done.

 

“I may… or may not…. have bitch slapped him with a toolbox,” she said awkwardly. Meg barked out a surprised laugh, looking at her incredulously.

 

“You didn’t,” she said with disbelief. Claudette shrugged instead of responding. 

 

“I did….” she admitted. “He also put the knife to my throat afterwards, and I may have sort of shoved into it and dared him to kill me.”   
  
Meg wasn’t laughing anymore.

 

“He did what.” Her voice was almost as cold as Claudette’s had been.

 

“I think it was mostly my fault; I did hit him in the face with a toolbox. He backed down after I yelled at him a bunch,” she explained. Meg huffed, but didn’t comment further.   
  
“You really fucked him up you know,” Meg said after a while. Claudette gave a curious ‘hm?’ and she sighed.

 

“Myers. You did a number on him. Part of the mask got ripped off, and the skin underneath was entirely purple. Also there was some blood; I think you might have broken his nose,” Meg explained. She hmmed again.

 

“Maybe. Nothing less than what he deserved, though,” she replied. Meg almost looked skeptical, but again chose to stay silent.

 

They stayed quiet until Claudette got summoned to a trial, standing up on shaking legs and wanting nothing more than to pass out and sleep.

 

She died in the trial anyways.


	2. Chapter 2

She found herself back at the fire before long, staring into the flames. A path had opened up, one that meant the Entity wanted them to go somewhere. It let them explore the maps in their off time, probably to give them a better chance of survival; ergo, more ‘hope’ of surviving in certain maps.

 

She really didn’t want to see anyone, but the Entity would insist upon it if she didn’t go, herself.

 

So, she dragged herself upright, shuffling over to the path. And she began walking.

 

The length of the paths always changed, but luckily this one was short. However, once she arrived at the gate, with the chapel in the distance and the circus in front of it, she almost turned around right there and left. 

 

Something made her stay, though, and she wandered in, seeing Jake sitting by the horse… thing, untethering it from it’s spot. 

 

“What are you doing?” she asked, approaching carefully. The horse-thing, nickered, blood dripping from it’s mouth and onto the ground. It was disgusting.

 

“I want to see if we can ride it,” he said, gently petting the horse-thing. 

 

“You want to what now?”

 

“I want to see if we can ride it,” he repeated, grabbing the reins and pulling it away from the wall. The others had all scattered by now, looking through the map to find things that might be useful. “Well, I want to see if someone else can ride it. I’m on door-watching duty.”   
  
Door-watching duty, as they called it, was basically when one of them stayed behind and watched the door, and gave a whistle when the doors started closing so that they could all get out in time. No one wanted to get stuck here after the doors had closed. It had only happened once, but Jake had ended up having to hide in a locker while all the Killers wandered around the map. 

 

“There is no way in hell you are getting any of us to ride that,” Claudette said, slowly backing away from the horse. She really should have just stayed at her campfire.

 

“Aw, come on, Claudette; just give it a try. I can teach you... kind of,” Jake said, urging the horse closer to her. She froze at it’s gaping maw, cringing away from it’s bloody saliva. “Besides, it’s not like there’s much else to do around here, anyways.”

 

She bit her lip, trying to think of a polite way to say ‘no fucking thanks’ when Jake gave her the puppy dog eyes. 

 

Damnit. She could never say no to puppy dog eyes.

 

“Fine, fine! Whatever, just show me how to ride the stupid thing,” she said with a scowl. Jake's face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he handed her the reins. Then, he crouched down next to the horse-thing, making his leg a stepping stool.

 

“Alright, just go ahead and climb on,” Jake said, gesturing to the horse. “It’s pretty easy, just get comfortable, and hold onto the reins. Pull back to slow down; dig in your heels to speed up; yank the reins in the direction you want to go.”

 

“Are you sure?” she asked skeptically, eyeing the horse warily. How did he know if it was safe to ride?

 

“Trust me, it’ll be fine,” he said.

 

“.. Fine, alright,” she said with a sigh, carefully climbing onto the horse. Jake helped her get settled, and she scrunched her nose up at the smell, but otherwise it wasn’t too terrible.  

 

At least until Jake decided to screw her over.

 

“Alright, remember everything?” Jake said, smiling up at her. He brushed himself off, handing her the reins. She nodded stiffly, tightly gripping the reins.

 

“I think so?” she responded, shifting a bit, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. Why the horse couldn’t come with saddle she didn’t know. Jake smiled brightly at her, his grin taking on a slightly manic edge to it that had her second-guessing her willingness to participate.

 

“Great, hold on!” he said, and she had a second to regret everything before Jake was slapping the horse’s backside, sending it flying. She screeched, shifting forward to wrap her arms around the horse’s neck, completely dropping the reins in favor of not falling off.

 

The horse didn’t seem to have any idea where it was going, sprinting wildly across the place, leaping pallets and boxes and thoroughly jostling Claudette. She shrieked, holding on with all her might and squeezing her eyes closed, hoping that it would slow down soon enough. Her legs were taking a beating, trying to grip the horse’s sides and keep herself a little steady.

 

Her luck didn’t last, and eventually the horse bucked wildly, throwing her clear. She had a split second to count herself lucky that she was avoiding the thing’s hooves. That thought flew out of her head when she hit the boxes, knocking the breath from her lungs.

 

Her vision whited out, nothing but the ringing in her head to tell the passage of time. Pain echoed through her ribs, letting her know they were bruised, at the very least. Her arms ached and her legs hurt. Her awareness came back in bits and pieces, and she was just blinking the spots out of her vision when she heard Jake’s double whistle echo through the air. 

 

Double whistles meant the doors were beginning to close. Double whistles meant that she had thirty seconds at most to get back to the doors, and she had no idea where she was.

 

She hauled herself to her feet, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her breath came in short, pained gasps, and her legs ached and burned, but she forced herself to run, not even certain where she was. She thought she was heading in the right direction at least, leaping over boxes and vaulting pallets and windows, frantically searching for the door. She saw it in the distance and already knew it was to late. She wasn’t going to make it.

 

The doors slammed closed long before she made it to them, but she still ran to them, heaving gasps as she pressed her hands against the door. Everything ached, and she could see more spots dancing in her eyes.

 

She could hear them calling for her desperately, several fists banging on the doors. She was touched by their concern, but knew there wasn’t anything they could do now. She was on her own.

 

“Don’t worry guys, I’ll be fine!” she called back to them, wheezing. “Just go home.”

 

“You sure?” Meg’s voice echoed back, and she smiled briefly before reminding herself of the predicament she was in.

 

“I promise, just go,” she called back, leaning against the wall. A few more token protests were shouted, but they all knew it was fruitless. Everyone had waited when Jake had gotten trapped, but they couldn’t do anything to help him. The door would open again when it opened, not before. 

 

She realized what a mistake it was to be yelling back and forth when a bottle smashed in the distance, and she whipped around, spotting the Clown in the distance, and fast approaching. Her brain fell back into trial-mode instantly, and she ducked away, looking for a way to escape. Except, she realized, this wasn't a trial. This was a free for all.

 

She sprinted away, hands already coming to grip the boxes, pulling herself on top of them and leaping off, using pallets as bounce boards. She leaped off the top of stacks of boxes, hoping that by going up and over instead of around she could buy some time.

 

_ ‘Just like Nea said: duck and roll, _ she thought, letting her legs bend and falling smoothly into a roll. The Entity didn’t let them do things like this in trials; it conserved too much of their momentum, because too much allowed them to get away too easily. She pushed herself upright, shooting off again. She could hear the steady thump of the Clown’s feet behind her, and her legs and chest ached, vision going spotty as she ran. 

 

She ignored it all, only thinking of one thing.

 

_ I have to get away I have to get away I have to get away _ \--

 

Electricity sparked across the ground, and she screamed, legs spasming violently as lightning  raced up it. She grabbed the nearest box, barely able to keep herself standing, hearing the Doctor’s sick laugh echoing nearby. She wanted to cry, thinking about how she had to run away from two Killers now, even as she pulled herself forward, running like her life depended on it.

 

Which, at this point, it kind of did.

 

Her vision was swimming and her body jerked and twitched, the after-effects of the electricity slowing her down. Everything felt wrong somehow, and she struggled to catch her breath, to keep moving, to stay ahead. A bottle smashed at her feet, and she felt the drug take effect immediately, everything going dark and her muscles moving sluggishly.

 

She couldn’t even see anything, stumbling blindly when she slammed into something, falling backwards with a wince.

 

A whimper escaped her throat before another volt of electricity sparked along the ground, eliciting another gut wrenching scream. Her entire body was pounding to the beat of her heart, vision clearing up enough for her to see what was in front of her.

 

She was hoping she had just run into a tree, or a box, or anything except another Killer. She was already going to die so,  _ so _ painfully. She didn’t want to add any more suffering to it.

 

She looked up, already dreading what she would see. Myers’s blank mask stared down at her, stark white against the blindness encroaching on her vision.

 

Here, he wasn’t Myers, the one she had healed and who let her live time and time again. No, this wasn’t her Myers anymore. This was  _ Myers _ , stalker Myers, Killer Myers. Trial Myers. This was the Myers who had pressed a knife to her throat when she hit him with a toolbox. This Myers wasn’t her friend. 

 

This Myers was her killer.

 

Tears stung her eyes, and she couldn’t help the pathetic whimper that escaped. Her chest was constricting painfully, breath coming in quick, short gasps. Her vision began to black out at the edges, fear crawling up her throat and released into the air in the form of a high pitched keen.

 

She could feel the Doctor and the Clown’s presence, just a little ways away, both pausing at the sight of Myers standing over her. She closed her eyes, waiting for one of the Killers to make a move, to fall upon her like wolves upon helpless prey, because that was all she was now.

 

The air shifted suddenly, an oppressive weight shoving her further to the ground, cowering in fear. Myers had gone into attack mode, it seemed.

 

The knife slashed over her head, tearing apart the air and ruffling her hair, a clear message to the other two Killers.

 

_ ‘Back off, this one’s mine. _ ’

 

She felt the tears slipping out as she scooted further away from Myers, the other two killers clearly sharing her sentiment. A second later they had both scampered off, leaving her to the bigger hunter.

 

Myers turned to where she was, giving her a strange look. The oppressive aura he was exuding faded, leaving nothing but the silent Killer behind.

 

Myers made as if to grab for her but she ran, not looking back, fear clouding her mind and her thoughts. Her lungs ached and she could barely see, clinging to the edge of her consciousness with all her might. She clawed her way up some boxes, hauling herself onto a wall. Her brain, still foggy with the drug and too much stimuli and not enough oxygen, made her lose her balance, and she hit the ground beneath with a sickening crack.

 

She sobbed in pain, feeling the bone break and her leg collapse underneath her. 

 

~~

Philip watched the proceedings with more than a little worry. He actually liked the small human, the one who had gone out of her way to help him when she noticed he was hurt. She was kind and smart, scarily so. 

 

But now it seemed like she had been left behind with them, all the Killers wandering the area. He didn’t like it. He owed it to her, at the very least, for her help. But as he watched the others chase after her, he knew he wasn’t strong enough to step in and help. Not against the both of them. And definitely not against Myers. 

 

But she ran, and he followed, invisible, watching as she vaulted pallets and leaped off crates with an almost terrifying speed. There was an animalistic desperation to her movements, something he had seen often since coming to this awful world. 

 

She climbed atop a wall, but he knew she wouldn’t stay upright, not with the way she was shaking. Like a leaf in a hurricane, she fell, and he wasn’t quick enough to move in and catch her. Not that it probably would have worked, but he wished he could have tried. 

 

She cried out, no doubt attracting the attention of those nearby. He wasn’t certain who she had made friends with, amongst the killers, but there was one thing he knew for sure. She wouldn’t survive long in that condition all on her own.

 

~~

 

It took her longer than she cared to admit to realize the Wraith was following her. She had pressed herself into a corner, pulling her now broken leg close and hoping that no one looked for her. It was a foolish hope, really, with what must have been all the Killers in such a small area with her, but it was a hope nonetheless. She should have realized hoping got her nothing in this place.

 

The bell’s clang startled her out of her thoughts, and she felt her breath stutter in her chest, eyes squeezing shut as she forced herself further into the shadows. 

 

_ Please don’t notice me please don’t notice me please-- _ she thought like a mantra, wishing she hadn’t come here, or gotten on that stupid horse, or done anything except laze about at her campfire all day.

 

There was a shuffling of feet and a small, inquisitive noise, and she froze, breath stopping in her chest. Her eyes opened, peering around, trying to gage the best escape plan, when she saw the medkit. It sat simply enough, just a little ways in front of her. Just out of arm's reach.

 

The Wraith sat a little ways away, not quite facing her, but not quite  _ not  _ doing so, either. He appeared to be weaving something out of the grass around him, his weapon sitting innocently beside him, just out of his easy reach.

 

She moved, quick as a rabbit, reaching out and snatching the medkit before shoving herself back into the shadows. The Wraith made no move, not even any indication that he’d seen her. He just kept weaving his grass, weapon still just out of reach.

 

She eyed him, carefully opening the medkit and looking through it. It had everything she needed to make a splint for her leg, and she set to work, wincing as she forced the bones back into place.

 

_ Think Iron Will, think Iron Will, _ she thought to herself, remembering everything Jake had ever taught her about pain tolerance. Was she setting the bone properly? Probably not. Did she really care? No. If she could walk on it, she was golden, at this point. Then, she could find a nice, out of the way locker, and spend the rest of her time here trying not to cry. 

 

She was about to move, already gripping the wall next to herself when the fucking Hillbilly came dashing in, revving that chainsaw of his. 

 

“Philip, what are you doing?” the Hillbilly asked. He sounded almost… child-like. She would have been curious if his chainsaw wasn’t still revving, the teeth flashing dimly in the light. It didn’t take him long to notice her, pressed into a corner, and she saw the way he instinctively shied away from her. 

 

“Oh, it’s one of the new things,” he said, powering up the chainsaw again. “Should I kill the new thing?”

 

“Leave the poor girl alone, Max!” A new voice bellowed, and she saw the large form of the Trapper appear around the corner. She almost wanted to cry, thinking about how she was backed into a corner surrounded by Killers. 

 

The Hillbilly (Max?) almost seemed to pout, but deferred to the Trapper, scuttling over to him like a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

 

“But I don’t like the new things,” he responded, looking back at her. He definitely sounded like a child, and it made her wonder what his story was. Not enough to ask about it, mind you.

 

“Just leave her alone, and she’ll leave you alone,” the Trapper replied gruffly, before turning to her threateningly. “Won’t you?”

 

She nodded so fast she felt almost dizzy, leaning heavily against the wall and hoping that would apply to the other Killers now as well. 

 

“‘Sides, Philip likes her well enough; she was the one who healed him and all,” the Trapper said, turning back to Max. That seemed to spark some of the Killer’s interest, and he perked up noticeably.

 

“She’s the one who helped Philip?” he asked, and the Wraith (Philip?) made a noise to draw their attention before nodding. He pantomimed what she had done to wrap his leg, which she noticed belatedly still had bandages on it. She should probably have told him to have it checked every once in awhile.

 

“What the hell do you mean you  _ lost _ her?!” a voice echoed across the area, everyone snapping to attention almost instantly. Her gaze was drawn over to where the voice came from, the grass pressing down and shifting like somebody was moving. Except there wasn’t anything there.

 

“She  _ broke her leg?! _ Myers what the hell!” Freddy’s voice was clear, even at such a distance. He sounded pissed. Myers appeared next to him a second later, and she felt her breath stutter in her chest, fear taking over again. 

 

The other Killer’s eyes were all drawn to where she assumed Freddy was, and she wondered if they could see him without falling asleep. She could certainly hear him well enough now. Was it some effect of being outside a trial?

 

Amanda stalked around the corner too, glaring furtively up at Myers. She noticed, with growing fear, the way the other Killers seemed to close ranks, the Trapper at the head with Philip and Max behind him. She didn’t like where this was going, not one bit.

 

“Hey, Evan!” Freddy called out, and she could see the shuffling grass moving closer. Now this was a conundrum. She didn’t know if she could trust Freddy after what happened, although supposedly he and Myers had helped her out afterward. She didn’t want to risk it, not now, injured as she was.

 

Since all the eyes weren’t on her anymore, she began to slowly inch her way along the wall, back towards the center of the map. If she could just find a locker….

 

“Have you seen a survivor around here?” Freddy asked once he was closer. She realized that, since she wasn’t asleep, he wouldn’t be able to see where she was. 

 

“What’s it to you?” the Trapper, Evan, responded, seeming to draw himself up. She had never realized just how terrifying he was, being one of the largest killers there was. He crossed his arms, bare muscles rippling beneath the skin, and she gulped nervously.

 

Amanda, at least, seemed to sense the threat, and stood carefully, blade sliding out of her sleeve easily. Philip, likewise, had somehow grabbed his own weapon, and was holding it tensely. 

 

“Just fucking tell me, alright? Why’s it matter to you?” Freddy responded, and although she couldn’t see him, she could hear the building anger in his voice. She decided she did not want to get involved in this, and started moving faster, trying to avoid being seen. She wished there was more tall grass around here, someplace she could hide. All she could do was get up and duck between trees and walls. 

 

“Because I know your history, Krueger,” Evan’s voice echoed back across to her, and she felt herself pause briefly. She knew one account of his history, but what was a Killer’s perspective of it? “And I know your friends’ history, too. Nobody gets in here without killing, but I know what you’ve done.”

 

“And what might that be, McMillan?” Freddy’s voice had taken on a dark edge, and she heard the revve of a chainsaw, the swishing of Freddy’s claws. 

 

“You liked killing, you  _ enjoyed it _ . And so do your little friends. You killed fucking  _ children _ for god’s sake. Ain’t no way I’m telling you if I’ve seen some poor, helpless survivor, so you can torture them for your own fun,” Evan’s voice was raised now, and she kept moving, quick and quiet, quick and quiet, away from whatever was about to go down. 

 

“You think I would be so callous?!” Freddy roared, and she could hear Amanda’s shriek of outrage. She didn’t want any part of this little brawl.

 

Moving quicker now, she ignored the pain in her leg, finding a generator sitting innocently next to a locker. The locker, in turn, was backed up to a wall, which had several tree branches leaning over it. It was perfect. Somewhere to hide where no one would think to look.

 

The sickening squelch of the Wraith’s weapon making contact with flesh briefly caught her attention, as did the snap of a bear trap and the beeping of the reverse bear trap. How the hell they had managed to pull out so many weapons in such a short time was beyond her. Knives connected and grunts of pain could be heard even from where she was, and she hurried to get away. 

 

Pulling herself up on the generator, she carefully balanced all her weight on one leg, placing her hands firmly on top of the locker. With a quick bounce and a push, she hauled herself to the top of the locker, legs dangling off the edge awkwardly. Twisting and wiggling, she managed to make it onto the locker, huffing as she pushed herself to her feet. From there, it was only a small step up to the top of the wall, but without the support it was more dangerous.

 

Mentally preparing herself, she stood up slowly, carefully pushing herself onto the wall. Her leg burned, and she gripped the edges of the brick until he knuckles were white. Slowly, she stood up, reaching out and latching onto a tree branch with ease. 

 

It was easy enough to sort of crawl her way onto it, scooting closer and closer to the trunk. She could still hear the sounds of fighting in the distance, but more clearly, she heard the Huntress’s lullaby. A second later, the woman herself appeared beneath the tree, swinging her ax around easily. 

 

She seemed nonplussed by the sounds of fighting in the distance, although she did look towards it curiously. Just as she seemed about to walk off, the sounds of fighting stopped with a surprised noise from what had to have been Philip.

 

After that, it devolved into a lot of shouting.

 

“Shit, where’d she go?!” the Trapper, Evan’s voice, echoed out, and that sparked a whole new series of questions. 

 

“What the hell do you mean ‘where’d she go’?! WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!” Freddy’s voice was raised, and she almost felt like the tree was shaking with the fury in it. Oh boy. Ooooooh boy.

 

“I didn’t do nothin’, she’s just gone!” Evan bellowed, and Claudette really, really wished she had stayed at her nice little campfire being pissed and sad, like any self-respecting angsty teen would have. But no, she just had to go for a walk. 

 

“Well, hell, we have to find her! She’s got a broken leg, she can’t have gone far,” Amanda’s voice joined into the fray, and Claudette couldn’t help but wonder how this became her life. Treed by a bunch of murderous psychopaths who may or may not kill her at any given moment. 

 

She watched from her spot safely amongst the branches as all the killers shuffled through the trees. She wondered if they’d be able to track her like they did in the trials. 

 

She heard the Huntress’s humming increase in intensity, and she looked down to see the woman was staring directly at her. Oh fuck.

 

“Anna!” Amanda’s voice rang out, briefly distracting the Huntress. Claudette took the moment to try and scramble farther up into the tree, hiding behind branches and wishing she could disappear. “Have you seen a survivor around here anywhere?”

 

The Huntress, Anna, pointed upwards, and Amanda gave a small scoff.

 

“Yes, we know you want to climb but that’s not important right now, the survivor is injured and we need to help her,” Amanda said, voice holding that irritated tinge people often got when talking to someone they thought particularly stupid. Anna pointed again, and for the first time ever, Claudette heard her voice.

 

“Little one treed,” she said. Her voice was surprisingly sweet and soft, not at all sounding like it belonged to the huge and terrifying woman they faced during trials.

 

“What?” Amanda responded, eyes already looking around, obviously not really paying attention. Claudette had about a second to realize that was a colossally bad idea before the Huntress turned, pulling out one of her throwing hatchets, and launching it directly at Claudette’s new hiding spot.

 

Squeaking in terror, she ducked behind a branch, hearing it hit with a horrifying thunk. That, at least, seemed to get Amanda’s attention.

 

“Oh my god!” she squeaked, obviously having spotted Claudette. Figuring the jig was up now, she peeked from behind the branches, wishing to be anywhere but there. Her leg gave another violent twinge, and she whimpered, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

 

“Guys, she’s over here!” Amanda called, and soon there was a small gathering of Killers beneath her tree, all staring up at her. She eyed them with barely restrained fear, still not entirely sold on the idea that they didn’t want to hurt her. 

 

“Hey, can you get down?” Freddy called to her. She hunched closer to the tree trunk, eyeing him warily. Well, eyeing where she thought he might be standing. He still hadn’t put her to sleep, something she wasn’t sure what to think about. 

 

On the one hand, it was clearly a sign of trust and respect on his part, not doing something that would make her uncomfortable. On the other, last time she’d been with him she’d nearly bled to death because Myers got feisty. 

 

“I don’t think she’s going to come down on her own,” Evan said, standing loosely at the base of the tree. She could feel the impending argument brewing, when Amanda jumped in.

 

“Can’t we just leave her up there? She looks like she’s doing just fine on her own,” she said, and Claudette found herself liking Amanda’s suggestion.  _ Yes, go away, leave me be _ .

 

“Leg set wrong, painful,” the Huntress rumbled, pointing to her broken leg. “Need fix. I can fix.”

 

“Hey! Uh… oh fuck,” Freddy started, trailing off awkwardly. “I don’t actually know her name.”

 

“How the fuck don’t you know her name?!” Evan responded, and she could almost imagine the scowl on Freddy’s face.

 

“It never came up, alright?!” he replied harshly, and Claudette had to hide her face against the bark of the tree, stifling a half-crazed laugh. They didn't know her name. Why would they? They were just going to kill her. No need to learn the name of your prey, right?

 

Myers seemed to be trying to pantomime the letters of her name, with Max enthusiastically trying to guess him, although he clearly had little knowledge of the written English language. 

 

An unholy scream echoed through the woods suddenly, and she groaned with disbelief. A second later, the Nurse appeared at the base of the tree, seeming surprised to have ended up in the midst of such a large gathering.

 

“Oh, well, fancy meeting… all of you, here,” she said, voice holding a strange raspy quality to it. All at once, the Killers seemed to get the same idea.

 

“Hey, Sally, help us out here, yeah? Can you get that survivor out of the tree?” Freddy asked, and Claudette could feel the Nurse’s strange piercing gaze on her.

 

“Oh dear, she’s hurt, of course I can help,” she replied, and Claudette couldn’t help but wonder exactly  _ what _ this idea was. 

 

She had her answer when the Nurse, Sally, blinked out of view a second later, appearing a few inches from her face. 

 

She shrieked, arms pinwheeling violently as she jerked backwards in surprise, the sudden lack of any support making her heart stop for a second.

 

_ I’m falling _ , she realized as open air met her back and she began to plummet. It felt like everything slowed down briefly, just for that few seconds between the fall and the ground, and she sighed internally.

 

_ I hope they don’t mind dealing with my corpse. _

 

~~

 

She came to sometime later, her entire body aching and her head swimming. She blinked her eyes open, everything blurry and indistinct, and she could faintly hear voices. She felt like she was underwater, everything out of focus and distant.

 

Sound came back first, and she could hear her own wheezing breaths and the rattling in her lungs. Other voices were distant, covered by the wet rattle coming from her chest. Pain sparked in and out, like she wasn’t quite ready to be aware of it yet. 

 

The world slowly came into focus, although her glasses were gone, so she still couldn’t really see. 

 

The pain came back too, the old ache in her legs overwhelmed by the broken leg and what had to have been broken ribs and a punctured lung.

 

She could feel herself suffocating in her own blood, slowly but surely.

 

“Oh hell what do we do?!” Freddy’s voice had a tinge of panic to it, and she felt oddly warmed by that. He sounded actually concerned about her, which was weird. 

 

“Stop,” That was the Huntresses voice, commanding even with the accent. Suddenly, she felt hands on her legs, and she looked down enough to see that it was the Huntress, Anna, who was unwrapping her crappily done splint. At this point Claudette was almost certain she’d be better off just dying and coming back, but she didn’t know how to convince the Killers of this. 

 

It was almost funny, in a way. She was going to have to convince the Killers to kill her.

 

With a sharp jolt, she felt her leg pushed back into place, and she gave a whimper of pain, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. She tried to sit up, only to have a hand placed on her shoulder. She followed the arm to see Myers, crouching next to her and keeping her down.

 

“Myers, if you don’t let me sit up I’m going to drown in my own blood,” she rasped, feeling the bubbling blood in her lungs. Myers sat back, and she sat up, turning and coughing violently. Blood spattered the ground in front of her, turning her saliva to a foamy pink, and her chest ached.

 

“Oh, sweetie,” the Nurse (her name was Sally wasn’t it?) cooed, and she felt a hand gently rubbing her back. 

 

“Why are you doing this?” she questioned once she had gotten the blood out of her throat. At her silence, she looked around, seeing all the Killers watching her concernedly.

 

“Why are we doing what?” Freddy asked eventually, and she sighed, scrubbing a hand down her face.

 

“Helping me, caring for me, whatever. You’re Killers, why aren’t you trying to kill me?” she asked. She could see several of them flinch back at the implications, most notably the Nurse, the Wraith, and the Trapper.

 

“Because we care, doll,” Freddy responded slowly. She let out a slightly bitter laugh at that, slowly looking at each and everyone one of them.

 

“Really?” she questioned, eyes lingering on Myers. He seemed to slump under her gaze and looked away. 

 

“... You’d be better off killing me now, anyways,” she said with a sigh. “With the amount of damage I’ve got right now, it’d be better if I died, to just reset or whatever.”

 

“No,” Evan spoke, and she glanced him in surprise. 

 

“No?” she questioned, now beyond confused. She could see Philip and Myers both shaking their head.

 

“No.” he said more firmly, and she brought her gaze back to him. “We’re not killing you.”

 

“.... Why on earth not?” she asked. They were throwing her for a loop here. Even the Huntress and the Nurse were seeming to agree, neither making any move to kill her.

 

“You hurt. Not trial, we care,” the Huntress said, reaching over and petting her hair. She froze under the contact, entire body tensing in preparation to run. 

 

The thing was… Logically, it made perfect sense. She would die, be brought back by the Entity all hunky dory, and move on with life. It’s not like they didn’t kill her constantly anyways, so what did one more time matter? Plus, the brief pain of dying would be more than worth it to avoid trying to move around or do trials with a broken leg and punctured lung.

 

She’d never been good with emotions, but logic had always spoken to her. And so logically, dying here would be the best option for all of them. She’d get healed, they wouldn’t have to care about her, and she’d recover quickly enough to deal with the strangely significant amount of wounds she was seeing on each of them.

 

They had fought a bunch earlier, but now that she was closer she could see the blurry outline of wounds across all of them.

 

“Hey, where are my glasses?” she asked, squinting. A second later something was placed on her head, and she felt her glasses. Gently placing them on her face, she winced at seeing what wounds they had, although with her vision swimming as it was, she wasn’t really sure if what she was seeing was right.

 

Still, it would be murder on her medkits when she did get back.

 

Thinking back to her conundrum, she looked around, trying to think of a plan. Dying, logically, was the easiest, and probably the best, plan. So, she had to find a way to die. It wasn’t likely she’d be able to slink away, so that was out. They wouldn’t voluntarily kill her, but…

 

Her eyes strayed to Max, who stood just a bit away from them. His chainsaw was still humming in his hand, and he looked nervous despite everything. She wondered…..

 

Making a split second decision, she lunged directly for him, arms outstretched. If she startled him enough, he might react badly, swinging that chainsaw of his. And then--

 

A hand was on her back, effectively pulling her up short. She glanced back to see Myers holding her up in the air completely helpless to do anything. Except, his knife was tucked in his belt, within easy reach. She made a grab for it, successfully taking it and whipping it around so it was facing her heart. She didn’t give herself time to think, instead plunging the knife downwards without hesitation. 

 

Myers’ other hand came forward, stopping the blade just above her skin. She snarled, struggling against him, knowing already that it was futile. Amanda carefully pried the knife out of her hand, and she slumped, letting herself hang from Myers’ grip.

 

“Fine, whatever,” she rasped angrily. “Let me suffer more for your fuckin’ consciences.” 

 

They were all silent at that, and she heard the exit gate beginning to beep. Guess it was time to go.

 

“Great, cool, can you put me down now?” she asked, surprised when instead of putting her down Myers gently maneuvered her so he was holding her bridal style, taking care not to jostle her leg. 

 

“Uh…” she started, letting out a little squeak when Myers started moving, the other Killers falling in behind him. She glance behind them, seeing how they all started falling into little groups. Evan, Philip, and Max grouped together, but she noticed Amanda with what must have been Freddy stuck close by her and Myers. Anna and Sally lingered around, not quite a part of the group but not quite  _ not _ either.

 

“Will bring supplies, stay where?” Anna asked suddenly, catching up to them. She could feel looks being exchanged over her head, like a silent argument going on. Eventually, Freddy spoke up.

 

“We’ll be at Myers’ place,” he said, and Anna nodded once before hurrying off. Sally gave her a brief wave before following, the other three breaking off as soon as they got to the door.

 

“You better fuckin’ take care of her, or we’re gonna have a problem,” Evan said gruffly. She didn’t think it was a threat to be taken lightly, not with the way the other two Killers backed him up. Evan on his own was a force to be reckoned with, tall and built like a fighter, but adding in Max and his chainsaw, and Philip with his silent but deadly style, and they weren’t people she’d ever want to challenge. 

 

The three stalked off, and Claudette watched them go mournfully. That was her last chance to get anyone to kill her, unless she could run into the Clown or the Doctor again.

 

She hadn’t realized before how large Myers really was, her entire body only barely longer than his shoulderspan. As it was, she had ended up tucked against his neck, seeing the world from a Killer’s point of view. 

 

Another thing she hadn’t noticed before was how  _ warm _ Myers was. It was, like, actual human warmth. It was weird. She had always thought of the Killers as cold, detached. More robotic than human. But here, pressed semi-awkwardly against Myers’ chest, was undeniable proof that he was  _ human _ .

 

Her thoughts wandered, and she couldn’t help looking over to where she thought Freddy was, wondering if he was warm. She had healed him more than once, but she found she couldn’t actually recall if he gave off warmth like a normal person.

 

It was odd, nearly as odd as being able to hear the dull thump of Myers’ heartbeat near her ear. 

 

“You really don’t have to carry me, you know,” she said, as the trio made their way out of the exit gate. She looked back forlornly, knowing that was her last chance to easily get rid of the issues.

 

“If he wasn’t carrying you one of us would be, darling,” Freddy said, and she frowned.

 

“...Okay, but why?”

 

“Because,” Freddy responded, “you kinda scared the shit out of us back there. Most people don’t actively try and die, you know.”

 

At that her frown deepened.

 

“Death and life are meaningless here. I would have just shown back up at my campfire in an hour or two,” she said, and she heard Amanda huff.

 

“You really think life is that meaningless?” Amanda said, looking at her. She half shrugged, wincing as the movement jostled her bruises. Myers let out a huff, tightening his hold on her, like he was telling her not to move.

 

“Here? Yes. Out in the normal world? No. There’s no such thing as a true death here, so it doesn’t matter how many times I die,” she said easily. It was true, as far as she was concerned. Death and life were non existent here, nothing but the simple survival, and death-like experiences. Not true life, not true death. Limbo.

 

Her head started drooping suddenly, and she blinked in surprise when she ended up in the dream world. Myers stopped walking, Freddy standing right in front of her with a stern expression on his face.

 

“You can’t think like that, because someday, when you get out, that mentality will follow you.  _ You shouldn’t ever think it’s easier to die _ ,” he said, and she scowled at him.

 

“But it’s  _ true _ ,” she exclaimed. “Dying would be easier than waiting to see if the punctured lung will collapse and kill me or whatever it does. I might die either way, and it’s not like it would be doing me any favors to stay alive when it just inhibits my abilities in the next trial.”

 

“You shouldn’t think like that--” Freddy started, but she cut him off.

 

“ _ It doesn’t matter _ !” she snarled. “It doesn’t matter if I die because it won’t make any difference, anyways! Why do you even care?! It’s not like you should,  _ murderer _ !”

 

She saw his expression for a split second before everything snapped back to normal, Freddy’s lullaby disappearing quickly. She could see Amanda and Myers watching him go, before both turned to her. She couldn’t tell much from their faces, but she’d say they almost looked…. judgmental.

 

“God, whatever, I don’t have to deal with this shit, just put me down and I’ll be on my merry fucking way and out of your hair,” she snapped at them, wiggling in a vain attempt to escape Myers’ grip. Myers didn’t let her go, however, instead walking further into the fog. Eventually, after a few minutes of silence, the trees broke, revealing something that made her stomach drop instantly.

 

The Killers’ shack stood in the clearing ahead of them, shadows long and towering over it, throwing it into stark contrast. Her wiggling increased, fear taking over, because the Killers’ shack was  _ bad _ and usually meant hooks and pain and suffering and panicking, wondering if anyone was going to come save you and--

 

Myers huffed again, catching her attention, and she whipped her head around to face him. Once he had gotten her attention, he slowly shook his head, as if saying something. She didn’t know what though.

 

“He’s trying to say it’s not the same as the shack on the maps,” Amanda said, and she could feel a slight amount of her tenseness dissipate. It didn’t go away entirely though, and she watched with trepidation as they approached it. The inside was the same as the one during the trials, but the basement entrance seemed different somehow.

 

That didn’t stop her from whimpering in fear as they approached it. Myers walked down without hesitation, Amanda following a second later. For a second it was completely dark, then they turned a corner to reveal a long hallway instead of the hooks she was used to. The hallway had several branching doors, and many of them matched various areas they had trials in.

 

On the right there was what looked like a barn door; next to it was one of the sliding doors from the meat plant. Across from it was a carnival-themed door, and one that had a small doctors’ name plaque on it.

 

The hallway continued on, each door seeming to represent a place. There was one that was styled like the door at the yamaoka estate, and another that looked like it was ripped straight out of the preschool. Myers headed straight for the door that matched Lampkin Lane’s doorways, and somehow managed to open it without dropping her. 

 

When he stepped inside, she realized they were once again on the Killers’ shack’s stairs, but instead of heading down, he went back up. They emerged into the Killers’ shack again, but outside the scenery had changed.

 

Instead of the usual forest, outside was was, well, Lampkin Lane. She could see the main house in the distance, and the police car lights flashing brightly.

 

“What.” She looked around, trying to figure out what had just happened. She noticed, belatedly, that the normal lockers and pallets were missing from the area, as well as the chests.

 

“It’s the original version of the area,” Amanda said, stepping up beside them once again. “Every other place is a copy with various things changed, but the original is where we hang out. The Entity insists we scout out the changed versions every once in awhile so we can see where lockers and other hiding places might be.”

 

“That’s…” she started, trailing off. She really had no good descriptor for what it was. 

 

“Yeah,” Amanda said, seeming to understand what she was getting at anyway.

 

Finally, they made it to the main house. Myers immediately went upstairs, turning in to one of the rooms she remembered a generator usually spawned in. Instead, a bedroom was laid out nicely, with an actual bed and sheets. A dresser stood in the corner, and she couldn’t help but let her mouth drop open in surprise.

 

“What? But it’s usually empty up here…”

 

Myers moved over to the bed, gently setting her down on it. It was the first time in a long, long time that she had laid on a bed, and it felt like  _ heaven _ . 

 

“The Entity changes up the scenery to better suit it’s trials. We get the original versions, with furniture and stuff.” Amanda shrugged, sitting down next to her. She couldn’t help but run her hand over the sheets, marveling at the small luxury.

 

Myers, she noticed belatedly, had disappeared, leaving her with Amanda.

 

“I think Michael went to go check up on Freddy,” Amanda said, noticing her looking around the room. “You were kinda harsh to him earlier.”

 

With a sigh, she flopped backward on the bed, wincing as it aggravated her wounds.

 

“Okay, but  _ why _ ? You’re all Killers here, and I seriously don’t understand why you, you know,  _ care _ ,” she said, looking over to Amanda. Amanda’s face was pulled into what she assumed was the pig’s version of a frown, before shaking her head.

 

“I don’t… I don’t actually know. It was like, when I saw you, so willing to just die, it was terrifying,” Amanda started, looking out the window.

 

“Before I was a, well, Killer, I was just a normal person. Normal, and completely terrible. I was addicted to drugs; my life had no meaning. And then Jigsaw found me,” Amanda’s voice sounded almost wistful, in an eerie sort of way. “Jigsaw dedicated his life to showing others the value of their own. He put them through trials where they died unless they fought. I got put in one.”

 

Her head turned down at this, almost remorseful.

 

“I had one of the reverse bear traps on my head. The key to unlock it was in my cellmate’s stomach,” she said quietly. “I killed him to save myself.”

 

Claudette bit her lip, a little bit disgusted. She couldn't imagine killing another human being, even if it was to save herself.

 

“Somehow, that helped me. Changed me. I stopped the drugs, I started finding value in my life,” she said, eyes shining now. “I wanted to be like him. He was my own personal savior. I tracked him down, I became his apprentice.”

 

“But then I got in over my head.”   
  
Amanda shook her head with a sigh.

 

“I got jealous, angry. I wanted all his attention all to myself. I started making my trials unwinnable, I enjoyed the killing, the murder. He tried to reel me back in, remind me what his trials were really for, but I couldn’t do it. I was too blinded by everything, and I ended up getting shot.” Amanda seemed to be lost in memories now, not really aware of Claudette. Claudette, for her part, was biting back her horrified and disgusted remarks. The world could be pretty fucked up, apparently, even more than she thought.

 

“And then I ended up here. This was my third chance, to do something right. And I thought I was doing alright,” Amanda turned back to her now, staring at her. “But then I heard about you. You, who healed Freddy’s stab wound and Myers’s injury, and asked after Philip. And then when I needed help, you helped me. No questions asked, didn’t even ask for a reward, just helped me out.”

 

“You were kind when so many in my life had been cruel, shined bright when others had been dark, and you changed my perspective,” Amanda said, never once breaking eye contact. “You were such a genuinely good person, and I had been killing you, and for what? To feed some  _ thing  _ I can’t even see?”

 

Claudette finally found her voice.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, wanting to know why Amanda would reveal her past, why she would tell her about all the horrible things she did.

 

“Because I want you to understand,” Amanda said with a shrug, finally looking away. “Even us Killers have stories, our reasons. Sometimes, we’re not terrible people, we just got twisted by terrible circumstances. Other times, we are killers, murderers, freaks. I don’t know Freddy’s story, but we’re all still humans here.”

 

“I know.. part of Freddy’s and Myers’ stories, but not all of either one,” Claudette said briefly, looking away. “I can’t say it makes me happy, knowing it. Knowing you killed all those poor people, people who didn’t deserve to die.”   
  
“If all those people don’t deserve to die,” Amanda said, “then why do you?”    
  
That, there, seemed to be the root of the matter. She froze, wondering how Amanda had jumped to that conclusion. Because, well, it was right. She always tried to body block, always was the last one out. She always tried to go back for her friends, always. It was that mentality, that  _ ‘better me than them’  _ that haunted her. It dogged her every step, followed her like a shadow. 

 

“I don’t-- I don’t know, alright?!” she snapped, hands coming up to drag through her hair. It snagged, and she felt like she was going to cry, the sudden realization of how incredibly fucked up she probably was. “Ugh, does it matter?! It doesn’t, not here, not really.”

 

Amanda opened her mouth, but suddenly Claudette’s attention swiveled. She could feel it, like a prickling at the edge of her senses. Two auras had appeared near the edge of the area, shining like beacons against the dull black background. They weren’t however, survivor auras.

 

“What…” she started, before the realization hit her: She was using Empathy. She could feel the steady humming of her perks, the extra power settling under her skin like an extra coat. Which could only mean one thing.

 

“Uh-oh,” she murmured, looking towards the open window. She could feel the Entity’s power growing, shaking free of it’s slumber to drag her into hell. 

 

“Uh-oh what?” Amanda asked, looking around. Claudette didn’t answer, staring off at the approaching auras. Now that they were closer, she recognized the two gaits. Myers and Freddy were sort of distinct in that way. They were climbing up the stairs, and she felt the growing pit in her stomach. It looked like she’d get her death wish anyway.

 

Myers appeared in the doorway, the strange yellow aura disappearing, although Freddy’s remained. She heard Freddy begin to speak, but she knew her time was up.

 

The Entity's horrifying scream echoed through the house suddenly, and she couldn’t help the scream of fear as one of its claws plunged through the window, reaching around and grabbing her. She let out a shriek of pain as it grabbed her, yanking her out of the bed and towards the window. She made a last ditch effort to grab onto something, anything. She heard the three screaming for her, felt the the tingles of Freddy attempting to pull her into the dream world, but she knew it was fruitless.

 

With a sigh, she let herself be taken, hoping her injuries didn’t hurt her team too badly. 

 

~~

 

“So, Quinten,” she started, eyes more focused on the generator in front of her than anything. Her generator buddy let out a questioning ‘hm’, glancing at her briefly. He had asked if she was alright at first, and she had said ‘could be better’, and that had been the extent of their conversation. The Killer, whoever they were, had yet to make an appearance.

 

“... what’s the Nightmare’s story? You know some of it, right?” she asked, determined not to look at him. The generator blew up in their faces a second later, and she grunted in surprise, leaning away from the flames.

 

“Why do you want to know?” Quinten asked a moment later, voice carefully guarded. She shrugged her shoulders, keeping her voice nonchalant.

 

“Curiosity, I suppose. A few of the Killers got into an argument while I was nearby and one of them mentioned three of their pasts, Freddy’s being one of them,” she said, carefully keeping an eye on Quinten. There weren’t any heartbeats yet, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t appear soon.

 

“From what I know… it wasn’t good. My parents always told me to stay away from him and his daughter because there was ‘something wrong with them’,” Quinten said carefully, voice detached.

 

Claudette had a brief moment to wonder at the mention of a daughter, but pushed it off, listening intently.

 

“He…. I don’t really know. He was convicted of killing a bunch of what would have been my classmates when we were children, but got off on the technicality of some search warrant being signed in the wrong place or something. So the parents…” Quinten seemed to swallow his emotions, forcing the blank mask to stay in place. “The parents took the law into their own hands and killed him. Everyone thought that would be the end of it, but then he started haunting dreams.”   
  
“So many kids died because of him, and he wanted revenge on the people who killed him. So he started taking it out on us. In the end, we both ended up here. If I’m honest, I’m kind of glad for it. Better him stuck here with us then hurting anyone else out there,” Quentin finished heavily. She let the silence reign after that, content to think over what she had heard. The generator suddenly clicked on with a loud chug, just as her heartbeat started pounding in her ears.

 

A bottle smashed down next to her a second later and she screamed, all thoughts suddenly disappearing from her mind. Quentin looked back at her, eyes wide and terrified, but she knew it was useless. Even as she took off, she knew she wasn’t going to make it far. True to her word, a second after running her leg gave out, pain arcing up her body as she tumbled to the ground, the Clown’s heavy footsteps following soon after.

 

“Looks like I get to kill you after all, little doll,” he wheezed, and she felt his grimy hands grabbing her, lifting her up onto his shoulder. She struggled, seeing Quentin disappearing into the trees. She felt better knowing that he got away at least.

 

She struggled for all she was worth, trying to slow him down even the smallest bit, trying to drag out her own suffering long enough to help out whoever else was out there. Another generator clicked on nearby as he lifted her, having obviously found a suitable hook to place her on. She screamed as the metal violently pierced her shoulder, pain briefly overwhelming her.

 

She let herself hang, feeling the pull on skin and muscle and bone as the hook held her up while gravity dragged her down, only half aware of the heartbeat still thundering in her ears. So he was ‘camping’ her, as they liked to call it. The term had been coined early on by Dwight, when the Killer stayed too close to the hook for them to be able to save their friend. He said it was like what happened in video games, and it seemed accurate enough, if significantly less light-hearted. 

 

She could see the others (Quentin, Kate, and Tapp) lurking around the edges, but she could already tell it wouldn’t end well if they tried to save her. She silently waved them off, a single shooing motion disguised as her reaching up for the hook. Pain raced across her shoulder, but it was worth it as the others melted back into the shadows.

 

She could see the Entity’s claws approaching, slowly but surely inching it’s way towards her. It was only a matter of time before she would be fighting it off, fruitless though it would be. Her death, at this point, was meant as a distraction. She was keeping the Clown here for as long as she could so the others might have a chance of surviving. 

 

Just before the claws had fully formed, another generator clicked on, this one much farther away. She grinned, even as her hand came up to protect her from the Entity's hungry grasp. Her world soon swirled down to searing pain, white hot and vibrant, and the encroaching darkness that was the Entity’s gaping maw, hovering just out of sight, ready to swallow her whole. When she could fight no longer, she spared a brief, sardonic smile to the Clown.

 

“You lose,” she whispered, just as the last generator clicked on. The claws pierced her stomach, and she felt herself being lifted off the hook, everything fading away into darkness.

 

~~

_ Claws long and dark and black and glowing eyes peering from the darkness and knowing there was no escape and she could feel it tearing, tearing,  _ **_tearing--_ **

 

_ It was pulling her apart, molecule by molecule, piece by piece, ripping her to shreds and rebuilding her again and again and  _ **_again--_ **

 

_ She could feel it draining her, pulling every piece of hope, every tiny shining beacon she has, pulling them from her mind and her heart, leaving her nothing but a husk with empty eyes and-- _

 

_ It hurts so much more than she remembers, feels more like the first time it happened, when she still believed it was all a dream, a nightmare, when she still thought this was just some sort of fucked up game-- _

 

_ She would give anything for that innocence now, that strong held belief that they’ll make it, because as the eyes watch her, claws pulling and ripping and tearing, she can feel it leaking out of her, the fight leaking like a breath, a sigh of hopelessness, echoing through her head and her heart-- _

 

_ What would it take to get out of here? What would it take? _

 

_ She almost wants to find out. _

 

~~

 

She feels empty. A void fills the place where her heart used to be, the steady thump-thump that always reminding her she was alive was absent. Nothing mattered beyond her line of sight, beyond the tiny clearing she could see in the distance, the flickering fire. 

 

Her head felt empty. No thoughts wandered amuck, no stray feelings echoed back and forth in her mind. It was a blank computer screen, a silent field in the dead of winter, where nothing felt truly alive. It didn’t matter: the still-throbbing marks the Entity left on her skin, the way they glowed with orange sparks, still leeching off her even now. 

 

Her chest ached with the emptiness of it all, the hopelessness a living thing that climbed up her throat and into her head and infected every part of her, a huge weight settling in her chest. 

 

Did it matter? Did it matter if she got back to her campfire? Did it matter if she never made it back, if she wandered amongst the fog for the rest of her life? Did it really matter?

 

She stepped into the bright light of the campfire, barely comprehending anything. She could see glimpses of something, but suddenly her vision was wavering, falling, and she was tumbling to her knees, her face pressed against someone shoulder. 

 

“Shit, Claudette-- Jake, go get Meg,” someone’s voice said, and she heard feet dashing against the ground. Thump, thump, thump.

 

The sound echoed in her head, in place of anything else.

 

Thump, thump, thump.

 

“Claudette? Answer me, come on,” the voice said, and she now recognized it as Nea’s voice. She couldn’t find the energy to open her mouth, or breathe a word to fill the silence in her skull.

 

Thump, thump, thump.

 

A pair of arms wrapped around her, a soft humming filling her ears and she was rocked back and forth. She sank into the warmth, into the hold, feeling tears building in her eyes.

 

Why was she crying? She was empty, no emotions, nothing left. Empty.

 

Thump, thump, thump.

 

Another pair of arms wrapped around her, passing her from one hold to the next, and suddenly she found herself surrounded by the soothing scent of Meg’s perfume. It was vanilla, with a hint of rose, and somehow had never changed despite all the time they spent there, the amount of blood spilled and dirt smeared and oil and metal and wires and--

 

“Hey Claudette,” Meg’s voice was soothing, bringing her back from her wandering mind. The emptiness was filling up now. She didn’t want it to fill up. Filling up meant sadness and happiness and tears and hope and hopelessness and pain. Empty was empty was empty. Nothing could hurt nothing.

 

“Hey sweetheart, it’s gonna be alright, okay? Just breathe with me,” Meg whispered to her softly. She could feel the pain climbing up her throat, the ache of the hopelessness weighing on her chest, pressing down her lungs and constricting her throat.

 

The first sob broke free, a violent expulsion of breath into the freedom of the night air, and the others came tumbling out one after another, a line of dominos rushing to fall from her heart. 

 

Her eyes burned and her throat burned, and for a long while nothing was real except the pain in her chest and Meg’s voice in her ear, the echo of the beat of her own heart haunting her existence like a spectre, taunting her with what she couldn’t have.

 

Thump, thump, thump.

 

Her mind screamed, wanting to claw its way back toward the silence. She didn’t like her own breaths, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, the way her throat rasped and her eyes burned and her ears rang and the feel of the dirt beneath her skin. She wanted silence, silence, silence. 

 

Eventually, the sobs dwindled, the heaving breaths becoming quiet pants, her shaking body slowly coming to a standstill. She could feel Meg’s hand on her back, rubbing circles in it, feel the way her friends cheek was pressed against her head, the way her own face was buried in Meg’s shoulder.

 

“There you go, come on, you got this, come back to us,” Meg said quietly. She let out one more hiccuping sob before she leaned back, exhaustion hitting her like a truck. Her eyes felt blurry and dry, her face was covered in snot and tears, and she could feel the remainder of the Entity’s wounds under her skin like a parasite, but somehow she still felt better. 

 

Glasses were placed gently over her eyes, and she blinked, finally looking around the clearing. Jake and Nea were sitting on either side of her, close enough for her to feel their presence, but not close enough to touch. Across the clearing was what really got her attention though.

 

Sitting awkwardly side by side, Myers and Amanda were both watching her with concern, and she could hear the faintest hint of Freddy’s lullaby. 

 

“You okay?” Meg asked, and she refocused on her friend’s face. She paused, then nodded her head slightly. She wasn’t okay, not really, but she thought she would be. Meg gave her a small smile, the one where she knew she was lying, but wasn't going to call her on it. 

 

“Claudette, I am so so sorry,” Jake said suddenly, turning to face her. She looked over at him, seeing how genuinely remorseful he looked. She let his apology continue, letting him go on and on with blank eyes, before she finally gathered the energy to hold up a hand, stopping him.

 

“It’s fine, you couldn’t have known what would happen,” she rasped, wincing at her own voice. Her voice seemed to trigger something in Amanda, as a second later the Pig was rushing over, close enough to touch. The others leaned away from the Killer, but Claudette stayed still, looking up at her.

 

Amanda’s hands hovered, like she wanted to make sure Claudette was fine but was afraid to touch her. Her fellow survivors didn’t seem too keen on allowing her any closer, but Claudette, for her part, wasn’t sure what she wanted, where she stood on the matter.

 

She wasn’t sure of much of anything anymore.

 

~~ 

 

Freddy sat, watching Amanda approach the girl (her name was Claudette). He knew that now, from the way the original two survivors here had yelled at them when they had arrived. 

 

He wasn’t certain anymore how he got into this situation. His earlier hurt at the way she had yelled at him had vanished the instant he’d stepped into the room, seeing the Entity’s grasping claws grabbing onto her. They had thought it was just going to take her back to her campfire, that it hadn’t liked her being in the Killers’ homes, but they should have realized. The Entity doesn’t care about anything except being fed.

 

When they had gotten to the campfire, two of the others were already there. The boy, the one who was constantly befriending crows and sabotaging hooks, was pacing back and forth, looking more nervous than he had ever seen the survivor. The girl, the one who acted like she knew every nook and cranny of every building, had been sitting down and watching him.

 

As soon as the two noticed the Killers there, then had gone on the defensive. The girl had pulled out a can of spray paint (where had she been hiding it?), brandishing it like a weapon. The boy had pulled out a pocket knife, tiny in comparison to the kitchen knife Myers always carried around, but threatening all the same.

 

They had begun demanding to know all sorts of things almost as soon as they stepped into the circle of light, obviously much more outspoken than Claudette was. 

 

Amanda had taken point, answering their questions to the best of her abilities, and explaining what happened. When she got to the part about the Entity, the boy’s face had lost all its color.

 

“A trial,” he’d said. “She got taken to a trial.”

 

After that, a semi-truce had been reached, everyone sitting and waiting anxiously for Claudette to return. Freddy had felt sick to his stomach, thinking about how Claudette had told them she’d be better off dying, how she talked about the trials. 

 

He had no idea how he’d ended up sitting around a campfire with the people he was supposed to kill, waiting for Claudette to come back and praying she’d be okay.

 

He still remembered how it all started. It had been a business deal, nothing more. He got stabbed, he needed help, she could help. He had even thought about threatening to kill her if she didn’t comply, but it hadn’t gotten that far. And then the wound had gotten infected, and he had kept coming back. 

 

Somewhere along the line, the business deal had given way to fond feelings. He had found himself actually caring about her wellbeing, refusing to pull her into the dream world during trials, never hurting her if he could avoid it. 

 

He knew Myers had done the same thing, and that Amanda had never put another reverse bear trap on her head after they’d met. It was like she was a beacon of hope and morality, pulling them back onto the right side of the world, slowly turning them back to the humans they were supposed to be.

 

He should have hated it. Should have hated the unnecessary weakness and the guilt he started feeling for killing her friends. He should have hated it.

 

But he just…. didn’t.

 

And now he sat across from her, watching the true damage that he had been doing to her all this time, hearing the way she broke down, her entire body shaking with her sobs, and he felt guilt and pain crawling up his throat, choking him. 

 

He’d helped do this, once upon a time. He’d done this to her.

 

He wasn’t sure who he hated more in that moment, the Entity or himself. 

 

~~

 

Claudette felt the change a second before it actually happened. It was like the Entity was laughing at her, taunting her. The outline of Freddy glowed yellow against the dark fog, and she nearly started sobbing. But she was all cried out now, nothing left but mechanically movements and animalistic desperation.

 

“No no no nononono,” she moaned, already lunging for a toolbox. Her hand reached for a Fragrant Crispleaf Amaranth even as the others started voicing their confusion. She tossed it into the fire with a dry sob, feeling the Entity wrap it’s claws around her ankle, dragging her into the fire.

 

_ Let me survive. Please, just let me survive. _

 

~~

 

She ended up at Haddonfield. Maybe the Entity was playing some sick joke on her, or maybe she was just unlucky. 

 

Her brain went on autopilot, working on fixing things, running when she made too much noise, hiding in lockers and behind bushes. She didn’t even see the Killer for the first three generators, didn’t even notice the way the others’ insane screams bounced around the houses. 

 

“Are you alright?” Laurie asked, sliding onto the generator. She nearly blew the thing up in her face, surprise overwhelming her before the old calm took over again.

 

“Fine.” she responded curtly, focusing back on the generator. Laurie gave her a look, before turning back to the generator herself.

 

“What do you know about Myers?” Claudette barely registered the words until they were out of her mouth, the surprise flashing across Laurie’s face.

 

“Why do you want to know?” Laurie said, sounding much more open to it than Quentin had, but still skeptical.

 

“Overheard some Killers talking. Included Myers in their conversation. So: curiosity,” she explained with a shrug. 

 

“... I don’t know much about Myers, except that he is supposedly my older brother, and that he violently murdered all my friends one night when we were babysitting, before he came after me,” Laurie said, voice the controlled calm Claudette had come to associate with her. “We both ended up here not long after. It’s nice to know he won’t do what he did to me to anyone else so long as he’s trapped here.”

 

“... Quentin said something similar about Freddy,” she said offhandedly. The ground sparked beneath her feet, and she was up and moving before she even realized what she was doing. It wasn’t fast enough to get out of the Doctor’s range, however, and her legs seized as electricity shot up them. She could hear his sadistic laugh as he chased after her, and she hoped he ignored Laurie to chase her. It seemed like her prayer worked, and she heard the steady beat of his feet behind her moments later.

 

The chase began, and she already knew it was something she was going to lose. Nonetheless, she ducked and vaulted to the best of her abilities, looping him around the map again and again, waiting for the moment when the last generator was finished. She heard the exit gates get powered just as she fell, and she hoped he didn’t want to kill her as much as the Clown had.

 

Hope had not been doing her a whole lot of good lately. 

 

The Doctor stuck around, easily running off anyone who tried to save her. In the end, she watched as the others crawled out, leaving her trapped once again. As the Entity descended upon her, she felt the fight go out of her.

 

_ I just wanted to survive… _

 

~~

 

She didn’t remember what happened afterwards. She only came back to herself when she was slumped in front of her campfire, hand reaching towards the flames.

 

They looked so… fake. Like something you’d see on T.V., or some weird fire simulator. Like a moving picture, too perfect to actually be real. She could hear voices around her, blurred and distorted until she couldn’t understand them anymore. They filtered through her mind like air, empty of any meaning. She reached for the fire, wanting to push it over.

 

It wasn’t real, so maybe if she figured out how to reach it, to push it over, she could escape. And the flames’d reveal that this was all some fucked up science experiment she had signed up for, and they’d all pat her on the back and say ‘great job’ and she could be free.

 

A hand grabbed hers, stopping her from touching the flames, the heat singeing her hands. Except it was fake, wasn’t it? Meg’s concerned face peered at her from in front of the fire, saying words she couldn’t understand. She watched her friends mouth move with a detached fascination. Maybe it was some sort of VR headset deal. That was why she could see Meg’s face in front of the fake reality. 

 

Her hand came up, brushing along her hair, feeling for the strap of the headset. Because that’s what it had to be, right? None of this was real. 

 

Meg’s face was getting increasingly worried as she searched for the headset, because it  _ had to be there _ . Couldn’t Meg see it? The way the fire was too perfect, the sky too ominous. It was all a screen, a painting. None of it was real. She was finding her way out of this fake world. She was going to see what was beyond this reality.

 

Suddenly both her hands were caught, being brought in front of her face. Meg’s hands wrapped around her own, calloused from working on generators for so long. She watched as Meg’s lips moved, shaping sounds she didn’t understand, something she couldn’t hear. Suddenly, she felt something icy cold being dropped into her hands, Meg closing them around the object. 

  
The cold stung, and she could feel the wetness against her skin, dropping through her fingers and onto the ground.

 

It was… water. Just plain, simple water. Which meant what was in her hands was ice.

 

_ Where did someone get ice in this place? _

 

The thought was gone as soon as it came, washed away in the swirl of the wind through her head. Her eyes were telling her what was in front of her wasn’t real. It was something masquerading as real, some falsity that could never hold a candle to the real deal. 

 

But she could feel the cold against her palms. She could feel the way the water dripped down her hands, could feel the tiny paths it traced in its effort to reach the ground. She shouldn’t be able to feel it if it was fake. Fake things don’t have a smooth texture. Fake things don’t feel wet. Fake things don’t feel cold enough to burn.

 

“--at’s it, come on Claudette, focus on the feel of the ice. Feel how cold it is? How wet it is? Focus on it.” Meg’s voice finally punctured the bubble in her head, and she looked towards her friend. Meg kept talking, and she only caught brief snatches of words every so often, but she could hear her friend, and she could feel the ice in her hands, the water puddling. 

 

But if she could do both of those things, that meant this place was real. That this was real. She didn’t want this to be real. She didn’t like it when it was real. She wanted it to be a game. Something she could play at, something fake, something that wouldn’t hurt her. Real things could hurt her. Real meant she was stuck here.

 

“I’m sorry Claudette, I know, I’m sorry, but it is real, and you have to come back here okay? I know it sucks, I know, please come back though, please come back,” Meg said, her voice beginning to verge on desperate. She blinked, once, twice, the world fading back into focus.

 

“You back with us Claudette?” Meg asked, searching her eyes for something. Claudette opened her mouth to respond, and found she just couldn’t. She couldn’t make her voice work, couldn’t make her mouth form the words and push them out into open air like she wanted to. So, she slowly nodded instead. 

 

Meg’s shoulders slumped in relief, and like she was snapped back into awareness, she felt the relief billow outwards through the clearing.


	3. Chapter 3

She didn’t know how much time had passed, or how long she had been sitting there. The warmth of the fire was almost burning her skin now, and she could see several other people around her, Killers and survivors alike. She opened her mouth again, trying to speak, to say something,  _ anything _ , but the words wouldn’t come.

 

“It’s okay, Claudette, you don’t have to talk,” Meg said quietly, one hand running through her hair. Claudette leaned into the touch slightly, trying to force herself to stay present. Some part of her mind wanted to crawl back to that unreality, that fake place where nothing was real so nothing really mattered. 

 

But her hands felt frozen, icy, and Meg’s hand was on her shoulder, grounding her in the moment and place. She couldn’t go back to that unreality, not now. She itched for something to do instead, something to move for or to distract her. If she was focusing on something else, she didn’t have to think too hard. The thoughts couldn’t filter in and drown her under the weight of everything. 

 

She stood, swaying from dizziness. It felt like the wind was brushing against her as she moved, and she realized rather belatedly that it was her friends trying to stop her.

 

She shrugged off their attempts, grabbing one of her medkits and turning back to where the Killers were.

 

She went to Myers first, seeing the most obvious injury on him. She had no idea how she hadn’t noticed the chainsaw wound earlier, but to be fair she wasn’t in the greatest mindset at the time. 

 

Myers seemed to already know what she was doing, quickly removing the denim and leaving himself in only the black undershirt. It was a little weird, now that she thought about it, to see his skin on display like it was, but she shoved that thought back, letting herself go on autopilot. 

 

Clean, press skin, stitch, bandage, next injury. She could almost hear the confusion of Jake and Meg and Nea as she moved from one wound to another. Once she had finished Myers, she went to Amanda. It almost looked like someone had snapped a bear trap on her arm, which wouldn’t really surprise Claudette all that much.

 

She was just finishing patching it up when another voice spoke out from the fog.

 

“Hey, Claudette, are you alright--?” Laurie asked, stepping into the firelight. Everyone’s heads snapped to her, and she could see the way Myers stiffened, his entire body going rigid. She felt like she had gotten pretty good at reading him, and if she had to hazard a guess she would say that he was scared.

 

Laurie, on the other hand, had gotten that terrified, empty look that she always got during trials. Nea seemed to realize it at the same second Claudette did, and she reached out and gently grabbed Laurie’s hand.    
  
Claudette, for her part, tugged Amanda back over to Myers, sitting the other so that she was pressed up against his side, trying to reassure him without speaking.

 

“What is he doing here? Claudette, what are you doing?!” Laurie said, her voice gaining a shrill edge to it. Claudette tried to open her mouth, tried to explain, but her vocal cords still refused to cooperate.

 

“Claudette has been helping the Killers out when they get injured, and they’re friendly,” Meg explained, although she sounded more like she was questioning it herself.

 

Everyone looked to Claudette, and she nodded slightly, going back to fixing up the wounds on Amanda. She could hear the raggedness of Laurie’s breathing from here, could almost feel the way her friend’s hearts were pounding in fear.

 

She looked up from her work, meeting Meg’s eyes. Slowly, she pointed at Myers, then at herself, and pantomimed the motion of taking someone off a hook. Meg’s eyes clouded with confusion for a second before she understood.

 

“He saved you?” she asked, and Claudette smiled, nodding.

 

“From who?” Laurie asked, her voice still tight. Claudette pointed at Jake briefly, then pantomimed the Doctor’s motion for shocking people.

  
“From the Doctor…” Meg said, and Claudette rolled her hand, indicating there was more. “And…”   
  
She pantomimed the Clown’s weird bottle thing, and it took them a few seconds to get it.

 

“And the Clown?” Meg said finally, and she nodded.

 

“During the time you got trapped, right?” Nea asked, and she nodded, glad they were understanding what she was saying. 

 

“How, exactly?” Laurie was still tense, but some of the fear had left her voice. It seemed more like curiosity now. 

 

She… didn’t know how to answer that one, in all honesty. She settled for gesturing to Myers and giving the other survivors an incredulous look. Nea seemed to understand what she meant.

 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d want to piss him off either. He looks kinda like he could throw one of us through a brick wall without breaking a sweat,” Nea said, eyes trailing up and down Myers’s figure. Claudette had to agree with her there: Myers was certainly one of the more buff-looking Killers, although she thought the Trapper would always have him beat. 

 

“Just how many other Killers are you… ‘friends’ with?” Jake asked, and that gave Claudette pause for a second. She would assume she was at the very least friends with Philip, but the others she wasn’t sure about.

 

“Well, there’s the three of us, Philip, Evan, and probably a little bit of Anna and Sally,” Amanda said, looking thoughtful. The others just looked confused.

 

“Who?” Jake asked. Claudette took over at this point.

 

First, she did the bell motion, then she pressed her wrists together, making her hands like claws and snapping them shut. She pantomimed throwing the hatchets, and the Nurse’s exhaustion after blinking. The others watched intently, and it was Laurie who got it first.

 

“So, the Wraith, the Trapper, the Huntress, and the Nurse?”

 

Claudette gave a small nod, and the others seemed to be flabbergasted.

 

“You are just… too much,” Meg said, looking almost sick. Claudette shrugged, finishing patching up Amanda’s wounds. 

 

“Wait, what do you mean the three of us?” Laurie asked, and Claudette realized she couldn’t hear Freddy’s lullaby anymore. Myers and Amanda both looked towards a certain spot though, and she would guess he was still there. 

 

She glared at the spot, knowing Freddy was injured but that she couldn’t help him unless he put her to sleep.

 

She heard a huff from his spot, and shouts of fear as her head started drooping, but she ignored it, looking around in the dream world. She could see a nasty wound on Freddy’s arm, and moved to clean it, body working more on autopilot than anything. 

 

Freddy didn’t say anything as she worked, although she could hear Amanda fielding the questions thrown her way.

 

Claudette was thinking that this little meeting was going pretty well, which is why she wasn’t surprised in the slightest when it all went wrong. 

 

The first thing to go wrong was Bill, Kate, and Quentin all showing up from the survivors side. The second thing was Evan, Philip, Max, Anna, and Sally barreling in from the Killers’ side.

 

“What the fuck did you do, Krueger?!” Evan bellowed, completely ignoring everything else and going directly for Freddy. Freddy backpedaled abruptly, leaving Claudette standing on her own. A second later Anna and Sally had surrounded her, both of them cooing and asking if she was okay. Myers stood up, like he was going to get between Freddy and Evan, and Amanda grabbed him, pulling him back down onto the seat.    
  
Meg and Nea looked like they were going to faint, Jake looked like he was going to piss himself, and the three newcomers looked utterly and completely shocked.

 

“What in hell's name--” Bill started, stopping when Evan barreled past him, still going for Freddy. Claudette let out a soundless squak of indignation, moving to intercept Evan on his war path.

 

“You said you were gonna take care o’ her, and then I find Anna losin’ it in the hallway because she’s gone!” Evan bellowed, heedless of Freddy’s stuttering explanations. It occurred to her Evan might not even really realize where he was, he might have just been going after Freddy and the others, and ended up here.

 

Well, that wouldn’t do. Claudette was all for unity or whatever between all of them, but clearly her friends were a little bit scared. If she was honest, she was, too.

 

She stepped in front of Freddy, glaring up at Evan for all she was worth. It didn’t amount to much, in the end, but Evan still stopped in his tracks, huffing breathes the only sound in the clearing.

 

She realized, a little belatedly, she was still holding a pair of scissors in her hand from when she had to cut the sewing thread. She raised it, sort of half-threatening, and half just warning, and Evan huffed again but backed down. She nodded, pleased with that, turning back to where Freddy had hidden behind Myers, much to the others’ chagrin.

 

Letting out an amused snort, she moved back over to Freddy, about to continue working on his wounds.

 

“What in Jesus’ tits is going on here?!” Bill shouted, and wheezed slightly in surprise.

 

“Uh, well,” Meg said, looking at the new people. “Uhhhhh….. It’s…. a mess?”

 

Claudette quietly scoffed at her friend, patching up the remainder of Freddy’s wounds. Then, she turned back to where Evan was standing in the middle of the clearing. Philip, Max, Sally, and Anna had retreated towards Amanda, and the survivors had all clustered together on the opposite side of the campfire.

 

“.... Is she asleep?!” Quinten asked, his voice gaining a terrified edge. She blinked, realizing that  _ oh yeah, she was, _ when suddenly her head jerked upright and she just wasn’t anymore. She blinked, feeling herself swaying with dizziness, and Myers reached out, gently steadying her.

 

“Uh, not anymore…?” Meg said quietly, although she sounded more like she was asking a question. “Uh… right: explanation….”   
  
“Claudette has apparently been helping out the Killers when they get injured, and became pseudo-friends with them,” Laurie stated, her voice its usual no-nonsense tone. 

 

Claudette gave a half-shrug when everyone looked at her, because the other girl wasn’t exactly  _ wrong _ . She stepped out of Myers’ grip, heading over to Evan, who had a nasty looking stab wound on his shoulder. She pointed at him, then pointed at one of the logs away from the survivors, using the same sort of no-nonsense face she used when the others wouldn’t sit still. 

 

He held up his hands in surrender, lumbering over to where she had pointed and sitting down with a plop. Philip and Max were quick to join him, both of them sporting small wounds of their own. She wordlessly sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Entity give her strength to deal with this.

 

“So, wait, Claudette became all buddy-buddy with all these Killers?” Bill asked, and she could hear that suspicion in his voice. They had all read Benedict's journals, were all aware what happened when a survivor lost hope. Being friends with Killers probably didn’t look good, from their point of view. 

 

Hell, it didn't really look good from any point of view, but here she was. She opened her can of worms, might as well lay in it.

 

“Yeah. she helps them out when they get injured and shit, apparently,” Jake said, gesturing to where she sat next to Evan, patching him up. “Anyways, I don’t know about y’all but I’m out.”

 

Jake stood and walked away, Nea glancing at Claudette briefly before following. Kate looked around too, before giving a shrug.

 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay, and you seem fine now, but just come and find me again if you want some tunes to cheer you up,” she said, before following the others out into the fog. Bill, Laurie, Quinten, and Meg stuck around though, which surprised her.

 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that these disgusting individuals hadn’t done you any harm,” Sally said, floating over to her. “But since you seem well, I will take my leave. Don’t be afraid to reach out to me if you need it, little one.”

 

With that, Sally floated away as well, leaving her, Bill, Laurie, Meg, Quentin, and a fuckton of Killers.

 

She moved over to Phillip next, treating his wounds more easily. She also poked at his leg, the one that had gotten stuck in a bear trap. There was a story there, she was certain, but right now she couldn’t voice her question. She settled for giving them both a questioning look and pointing at Philip’s leg. Evan looked away, almost ashamed, and she frowned.

 

“I was workin’ on one of my traps and left it out when Max ran off into the fog. Philip didn’t know about it and accidentally stepped in it. The damage was too much for us to fix on our own,” he explained. She nodded, gently unwrapping the bandages. Everyone else was oddly quiet, leaving her the only one really making noise in the clearing. 

 

Philip’s leg looked like it healed up just fine, and she quickly pulled out the stitches, rebangading it just in case. He gave her a small huff of thanks, and she nodded to him.

 

“You sure you’re fine?” Evan asked, and she gave him a smile and a nod. “Alright then, thank you.”

 

Evan stood up, lumbering out of the clearing, but not before sending one glare towards an empty spot where she assumed Freddy was. Philip and Max followed soon after, leaving her with Myers, Freddy, Amanda, and Anna.

 

The huntress had been oddly silent since she had started patching people up, and she looked over to the taller woman now, watching her curiously. The woman was watching her back, her eyes holding a curious glint to them, but she made no more moves towards her.

 

“Little one safe?” she asked, and Claudette nodded again, showing how easily she was moving around now. This seemed to satisfy the huntress, as she nodded. “Good. Will leave little one with hers then.”

 

With that, she turned and walked out of the clearing, and she saw the grass shuffling behind her weirdly. A second later Myers got up and followed her, looking almost determined. She assumed that meant Freddy had left again, and she sat down with an exhausted sigh, finally feeling everything catching up to her. 

 

Her eyes drooped, as she leaned  heavily against Amanda’s side. The other girl didn’t seem to know what to do, tensing up abruptly before reluctantly relaxing into the contact.

 

“You look exhausted,” Quentin said, and she couldn’t help but snort at that. 

 

“Pot, meet kettle,” Meg muttered, and she gave her friend a cheery smile. With almost all the Killers gone now, they seemed more willing to approach, probably more certain that they could take down Amanda if push came to shove. Meg sat down on the ground, leaning against her legs, and Quentin sat beside the fire, a little farther away. Laurie joined Quentin in his spot, and Bill sat down in front of her, sighing dramatically.

 

“What on earth are we going to do with you, girly?” he asked, and she yawned, snuggling deeper into Amanda’s warmth. Her eyes fell closed, and that was the last thing she remembered before she fell asleep.

 

~~

 

She woke up alone. It wasn’t surprising, not really, but somehow she’d still expected at least  _ someone _ to be there when she awoke. As it was, she clawed her way out of her nightmares on her own, sitting up and somehow already exhausted beyond belief.

 

Yet she forced herself up, limbs uncooperative and unresponsive. Her nightmares floated at the edge of her mind, wanting to force their way back into the light.

 

She finally noticed the path on the other side of her, opening up into the fog. Guess the Entity wanted her to go somewhere.

 

She stumbled down the path, trying to keep herself vaguely upright. Soon enough a building appeared out of the fog, and she sighed.

 

Guess she was going to the meat plant then.

 

She stepped inside the doorway, wrinkling her nose at the smell. It always smelled like blood and metal in this place, which wasn’t a very pleasing combination. She could see Dwight by the edge of the door, but she found herself less willing than usual to interact with people. Luckily, hiding away was what she was known for. 

 

She crouched, waiting until Dwight had turned away to dash inside. From there, it was easy enough to find her way to the basement, something everyone had semi-agreed to avoid in this map simply because it was hell to find the way out of it and get to the doors in time. Nobody wanted to be left behind, but on the flip side, it meant no one would be down here, which was perfectly fine by her.

 

She was tempted to just to find a corner and curl up, but something glowing caught her eye.

 

She froze, looking over, and seeing one of the ugliest flora she had ever seen.

 

It pulsated, glowing bright orange, and she carefully approached it, wondering what fresh hell she had wandered upon now. A syringe sat innocently near the bottom of it, and the thing pulsated and squeaked, the tiny, spider-like legs twitching in front of the center of the flower.

 

“What. The fuck,” she said, crouching down to peer at it. She had always been a scientist at heart, and honestly, the worst thing that could happen was that she died or something from the exposure. Carefully, she poked at the flower, feeling the way it gave and swung beneath her hand, and the slightly rubbery feel it had.

 

She picked up the syringe, pushing it into the center of one of the flowers, where it seemed to be about to burst with something. Slowly, she began extracting it, holding back her disgust at the strange noises it was making. The syringe slowly filled up with some sort of glowing liquid, seeming almost to pulse with light. 

 

When the syringe was filled, the flower heaved, withering into a dull gray color. She watched it, poking it again, and felt the way it gave under her fingers, crumbling to dust. The rest of the thing soon followed, withering away like it was nothing.

 

She held up the strange liquid to the artificial light, noting the way it looked almost like a sort of syrup. She frowned, standing up and heading deeper into the building, exhaustion forgotten in the face of this new discovery.

 

Her eyes and ears were pricked, looking for any signs of this newflower. Was there more than one? Why did it crumble so easily once it was bled dry? Surely it had more than a tiny vial full of that stuff in it. 

 

She spotted another one, and quickly made her way over. Another syringe sat underneath the flowers, and almost like instinct she moved to extract whatever the syrup was. 

 

“What is this stuff?” she questioned quietly, holding up the vial. Deciding she had nothing to lose, she gently squeezed out a drop of it onto her hand. It felt like a normal liquid, maybe a little bit thicker than water. It didn’t burn or hurt or anything, just sat there, innocent as all get out.

 

Part of her was very tempted to lick it. 

 

Again, she had nothing really to lose. She carefully leaned down, trying to ignore the part of her brain that was screaming at her for this, and licked up the drop.

 

The first thing she noticed was that it tasted absolutely disgusting. Like someone had taken the smell of sewage, sharpies, and blood and combined them into liquid form. It burned against her tongue, and she swallowed it almost instinctively, feeling it burn down her throat until it settled in her stomach. Once the taste was gone, the burn didn’t feel bad. In fact, it was almost warm, in a way, like when you’re cold and you drink hot chocolate.

 

It was… incredibly odd. She took the syringes, wondering what she could do with them now that she had them, because really, she didn’t have anything she needed to do with them. There wasn’t any science equipment in the fog, and it wasn’t like she was going to be able to study it much without that stuff. She might be able to test the effects it had on various plant life, and maybe just capture one of those fake crows and inject them, but other than that, there wasn’t much to do.

 

Still, she found herself pocketing it, and standing up, eyes searching the ground for more of the strange flowers.

 

She found a few more, the odd oozing sounds from the flowers covering up everything else. She was deep in the basement when the double whistle sounded, and she sighed, hoping she’d be able to track down one of the friendlier Killers before she got murdered. 

 

Honestly, she didn’t even bother to try and make it back to the door, already knowing she was beyond lost in this place. She wandered as she heard the survivors’ door close, stumbling upon a hook. What caught her attention, though, were the flowers that wrapped around the base of it. She frowned, not seeing any sort of syringe for this one, and she peered around it, wondering what this one required.

 

She reached up to poke at the hook, wondering if it had the same sort of thing the barbeque hooks had on them. She jumped back when it pieced her finger, a single drop of blood dripping down the hook. She watched, curious, as the flowers seemed to reach up towards the blood, withering away once the blood got too close. 

 

The strange liquid dripped down the stem, in response to the blood, and into a small vial that sat at the bottom of the plant, something she hadn’t even noticed before. Or maybe it hadn’t been there before?

 

“What?” she asked, looking at it. Carefully, she placed her hand on the hook, scraping it along the sharp edge. Blood pooled and dripped down it, winding its way towards the flowers. It was like the blood was defying all logic, dripping off the hook and ending up directly on the flower. It withered further, more of the strange liquid dripping down into a vial.

 

She heard the pounding of feet above her suddenly, someone heading downstairs directly towards her. She looked over, unconcerned, as the Doctor appeared, maniacal glee evident on his face. As soon as he saw her, however, his grin dropped into an almost pout, his electrotherapy disappearing.

 

“Damnit, I was hoping it’d be one of the others,” he muttered, and she frowned.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re Michael’s toy, and there is no way in hell I’m pissing him off,” the Doctor explained, and she opened her mouth to protest that  _ she was no one’s toy, thank you very much _ , but she snapped it shut when she realized he wasn’t exactly wrong.

 

“Hey, you’re a doctor, right?” she asked, turning back to the hook. She probably shouldn’t turn her back on a Killer, but he was the closest she was going to get to someone else who knew what she was talking about, so she’d take her chances.

 

“Not… entirely, but yes,” he replied, sounding confused. Her hand had already scabbed over, and she frowned, picking at it.

 

“What do you make of this?” she asked, reaching up and scraping her hand over the hook again. Blood dripped further down onto the plant, and it withered, making that strange noise again. She felt the Doctor approach, the hair-raising feeling of static electricity following him, and she looked to see him peering over her shoulder, staring at it.

 

“Fascinating, how does it do that?” he asked, and she shrugged, pulling her hand back. As soon as the blood stopped flowing it stopped withering, leaving it sitting there innocently.

 

“I have no idea. There were other ones sitting around that were on their own, those had syringes to get the liquid out though, and once I got it out it withered. I was thinking maybe it was the BBQ hooks, where it only reacts when someone gets hooked on it?” she explained, reaching down to poke at the half filled vial. She heard some shuffling, and the Doctor leaned down with her, inspecting it.

 

“It doesn’t have a smell, it tastes terrible, but so far I haven’t experienced any adverse effects to swallowing it,” she said, looking over at him. He frowned, looking at her.

 

“You ate some of it?” he asked and she nodded.

 

“I didn’t have anything to lose, so I figured why not?” she replied, and he snorted. She was pretty sure he muttered ‘crazy survivors’ as he stood up, circling the hook again.

 

“It’s likely part of the Entity, like everything else here, although what it’s purpose is, is beyond me,” he said, and she nodded.

 

“I have no idea either, but clearly we’re supposed to do something about it, considering the vials. Maybe it’s some sort of detox or something? Us getting rid of all the waste material it gets from consuming us?” she asked, poking at the flower. She stepped back suddenly, looking at him.

 

“Try shocking it, I want to see what happens,” she said, and he nodded, that spark of scientific curiosity shining in his eyes. He held out his hand, sending a shock directly to one of the flowers. It bounced off, disappearing in the air, and she frowned.

 

“Huh. So it’s not a conductor, not like the ground and stuff in this realm,” she said, peering at it. “Maybe try hitting it?”

 

The Doctor did just that, his weapon slamming into it with enough force to make her wince. The flower still remained undamaged, and she shook her head.

 

“I hate the Entity’s bullshit,” she muttered, stepping forward again. The only way she could think of to get rid of the flowers was to be hooked on the hook, which was not something she wanted to do. But hey, not wanting to do something had never stopped her from doing stupid shit before.

 

“Okay, so try hooking me: I want to see what happens,” she said, turning to look at the Doctor. He gained a kind of confused look on his face, eyes darting between her and the hook. 

 

“Are you serious?” he asked, and she nodded. “Alright, but if Myers shows up, you’re explaining it to him.”

 

She nodded in agreement, resisting the instinctive urge to struggle as he picked her up, putting her on the hook. She didn’t scream, far too used to the pain to bother with it. She could feel the blood running down her front, and just like she expected, the flower withered beneath her.

 

“Fascinating,” the Doctor breathed, crouching down to peer at the flowers. She huffed, glaring at him.

 

“Okay, now get me down,” she said, and he stood up. There was a split second for her to realized what a god awful mistake this was before he was smirking at her, stepping back. 

 

“No, I don’t think I will. After all, they can’t blame me for hooking you, if they even find you in time,” he said, nodding to the now-forming claws of the Entity. Great, they didn’t even have to be in a trial for her to get eaten.

 

She reached up, attempting to haul herself off the hook. It didn’t work, and the claws formed quicker and quicker as she continued. She scowled as the claws descended on her, hands instinctively coming up to stop the claw from piercing her.

 

“Hey, Herman, Sally is looking for you,” Freddy’s voice rang out right above them, and she spared a second to smirk at the absolutely terrified look on ‘Herman’s’ face before Myers rounded the corner above them, standing on the landing between the two levels, Amanda trailing slightly behind him. She assumed Freddy was with them as well, based on the number of footsteps she could hear. 

 

Everyone froze for a split second, the only sound being her struggling against the Entity. 

 

“Herman you  _ motherfucker _ \--” Freddy’s voice rang out, and she heard the Doctor whisper “shit” before he took off, all but sprinting down the hallway and deeper into the basement. She heard feet pounding after him, and a second later Myers and she would guess Freddy had blasted past her, taking off in pursuit. She watched them go, knowing she didn’t have much more time left before she would get eaten.

 

“Oh hell, how do I do this, fuck fuck fuck,” Amanda muttered, coming to stand in front of her. The Entity pushed hard and she grunted, pushing back at it.

 

“Just grab me and lift me off, it’s not hard,” she snapped, gritting her teeth as her shoulder began to ache. Amanda gripped her sides, gently lifting her off. The Entity retreated, and Claudette stumbled as her feet hit the ground, Amanda carefully propping her up.

 

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” she muttered, turning to look at the hook. Like all the others had, the flowers had wilted, turning grey and ashen. The vial at the bottom had filled up completely, and she reached down, gingerly picking it up and swirling the liquid.

 

“You are not fine you have a hole in your shoulder, now  _ sit down _ ,” Amanda said, but Claudette ignored her in favor of basically doing a shot of the liquid. It burned like whiskey as it went down, the taste somehow so much worse than the others. It felt like it was burning as it settled in her stomach, the feeling dropping away to an almost uncomfortable warmth in her torso.

 

“Claudette what the  _ fuck _ ,” Amanda said, grabbing the vial from her hand. She grimaced at the taste, almost gagging as it fully hit her, but managed to suppress the urge.

 

A terrified scream rang out from somewhere else in the basement, and they both looked towards it. 

 

“I guess they caught up to him,” Amanda said, a sickening thunk echoing through the area a second later.

 

“Oh my fuckin’ god he fuckin’ dead,” Claudette muttered, sparing a brief smile for the vine reference, before she started swaying on her feet. 

 

“What?” Amanda asked, and Claudette just waved her friend off.

 

“Nothing, nothing. Anyways I should probably just… sit down,” she replied a little breathlessly, slumping to the ground. Amanda gave a yelp of surprise, reaching down and grabbing her. She felt more dizzy than she normally did after getting off a hook, but she supposed it made sense. Entity’s trial rules didn’t apply here, so why bother letting her not bleed out or something.

 

Another terrified scream rang out, only to be abruptly cut off with a sickening squelch. Amanda fussed over her shoulder, and she just shook her head, knowing it’d be better to be killed now than be put in a trial.

 

“Just let me bleed out or something, and here, take these,” she said, shoving the vials into Amanda’s hands. Her vision was going dark around the edges, and she slumped to the floor with a sigh.

  
“Wait, what?! What am I supposed to do with these?!” Amanda asked, and she looked up at her Killer friend.

 

“Just drop ‘em off at my campfire,” she mumbled, letting her eyes slide shut. She heard Amanda panicking before darkness overcame her.

 

~~

 

When she woke up, she was in another trial. She was lightheaded still, and her stomach was aching like a bitch, but she was still alive, and her shoulder was bandaged up. She guessed they hadn’t just let her die, which, whatever.

 

She stood carefully, looking around. The rain poured over  her, and she sighed, shivering as it soaked her through. She hated the Red Forest, it was always  _ nice and cold as fuck here, _ and she barely had any real clothing on. 

 

Wrapping her arms around herself, she set off, ignoring the slow numbing of her extremities. She saw a generator in the distance, and hurried towards it, ducking down to begin working. Her fingers still worked despite already feeling frozen, and she slowly but surely repaired the thing, glancing around continuously to make sure she wasn’t be watched or something. Her stomach was cramping up something bad, and she forced down the pain, focusing on the generator. No way in hell she was going to not do anything for her team. She wasn’t that much of an asshole. 

 

Her heartbeat picked up, and she looked around, eyeing the forest and trying to peer through the fog. The generator was almost complete, and she was determined to get it done before the Killer got here. Her heartbeat continued to pound, and she knew she was about to run out of time.

 

The generator clicked on with a flash and she bolted, looking behind her to see Evan charging after her. Another generator clicked on somewhere across the map, and she grinned, vaulting over the window. She felt his hand a hair's breadth away from her back, and she took off, ignoring the way her stomach was rolling violently at the motion. 

 

The chase continued, and soon enough she spotted a pallet nestled between two trees, and she switched direction, heading right for it. Her eyes stayed on the ground, looking for a trap, even as she could hear Evan getting closer to her. She put on an extra burst of speed as she got close enough, barely avoiding a cleaver to the back, eyes focused on the pallet.

 

Unfortunately, the action didn’t do anything good for her stomach, and right before she reached the pallet her foot caught on something. Her hands came out, barely stopping her from slamming chest first into the trap that was neatly placed right under the pallet, her stomach giving one more violent lurch before it all went to hell.

 

If she had thought the weird Entity syrup had burned going down, she wasn’t prepared for it coming back up.

 

She heaved, her entire body shaking, her shoulder spasming with pain as she struggled to keep herself upright, the glowing orange liquid spilling from her mouth.

 

She heard Evan come to a stop behind her, and she heaved again, more of the gross liquid burning it’s way up her throat like magma, leaving a trail of scorched flesh behind it.

 

She heard him take a step closer, could feel him leaning down as if to pick her up, and she snarled.

 

“Unless you want glowing orange vomit all over you you better be picking up your fucking trap,” she snarled, stomach rolling again. She felt his hand pause, and suddenly he reached down, beneath her, gently grabbing the trap and standing back up.

 

“Good fucking choice,” she muttered, letting the spittle drip from her mouth. There was a pool of glowing orange beneath her now, and she sighed, her shoulder finally giving out. She slumped to the side, barely out of the way of the vomit pool, grimacing at the smell. Great, just dandy.

 

Slowly the heartbeat retreated and she sighed, just closing her eyes and letting herself lay there. She had gotten one generator done, she had helped out her team enough for now.

 

God, she hated this place. Hated it with every bone in her body. Although this was probably her fault, with the drinking of the strange liquids and all. And asking to be hooked. And poking at strange plants.

 

… Yeah okay it was her fault. That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to blame the Entity for it, though. Fuck the Entity.

 

With a groan, she crawled her sad, dumb ass over towards a wall, leaving a slimy and rather disgusting trail of glowing saliva behind her. Hearing something, she turned and saw another one of those fucking plants, and promptly decided she was going to kick the Entity’s ass someday. 

 

Once over by a wall, she decided to just lay there, maybe sleep a little, trying and not heave up her internal organs. Not that would be the first time her organs had ended up on the outside of her body, but it would be marginally more unpleasant this way. Probably.

 

Another two generators clicked on in quick succession, and she sighed, letting her eyes drop shut. Maybe just a quick nap…

 

She woke up to the sensation of being gently picked up, Evan scooping her up with ease. He carried her bridal style instead of how Killers normally carried survivors, which meant her stomach wasn’t completely rebelling at the thought. So, that meant he was probably going to avoid getting vomit on him. Yay!

 

He carried her past several of the weird plants, and subsequently the hooks with the weird plants, eventually ending up at an open exit gate. Meg was standing there, eyes wide as she stared up at them. Evan very gently, but also very pointedly, dropped her right on top of her friend, before turning and stalking away. 

 

“What. The fuck.” Meg’s voice was tinged with incredulity and a mild bit of hysteria, and Claudette shrugged.

 

“I’m like their dumb pet human at this point. There for emotional support but otherwise constantly doing things that will probably get me killed,” she replied, leaning on her friend heavily. She felt more exhausted than she had in… well. However long she’d been here. Even after her first few trials she wasn’t this tired. 

 

“Now can we like… go and shit?” she slurred, Meg wrapping her arm around her shoulder.

 

“Yeah okay miss glowing saliva, whatever you say,” Meg replied, and they headed through the exit gate.

 

Once through, Meg led her to her campfire, the trial fading into the fog behind them. She unceremoniously collapsed on the ground, and promptly passed the fuck out.

~~

_ A heartbeat thundered in her ears, something not her own. The fear swirled around her, tantalizingly close. Quickly, quickly, closer, closer. _

 

_ Soon, soon. The scent was in the air, the heartbeat pounded.  _

 

_ The hunt was on. _ _   
_ _ ~~ _

Claudette woke with a gasp, heart racing. Everything thundered in her ears, and she felt herself shaking violently, like the world was falling down around her. Her vision swam and she felt a hand on her shoulder, grounding her in reality. 

 

“Hey, kiddo, easy,” Freddy’s voice was calming, and she heaved a breath, eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to take in the scene around her. 

 

She was at her campfire, the usual crew all looking at her worriedly. Well, she figured it was worriedly, the pig head and Myers’ mask made it more difficult to tell. 

 

“Man, y’all are just a bunch of fuckin’ moths or some shit,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “Always drawn to a flame.”   
  
“What?” Amanda asked, and she jerked upright suddenly.

 

“MOTHMEN!” she shouted, attempting to stand up. Myers had to grab the back of her jacket to keep her upright again, and she could tell she had worried them even more. “Y’all are a bunch of mothmen.”

 

“Uh,” Freddy said, looking between her and the others. She giggled, swaying from side to side in Myers grip. 

 

“Does this… have something to do with why her eyes are sort of… glowing?” Amanda asked carefully, and she hummed, curious.

 

“My eyes are glowing? Neat! I wanna see ‘em,” she wiggled out of her jacket, dropping to the ground with a ‘oomf’. Before anyone could do anything, she had scrambled over to one of her cleaner tool boxes, staring down at her reflection. 

 

Her eyes were indeed glowing a faint blue, not unlike the shade some of the Killers often sported. She tilted her head this way and that, inspecting her changed reflection.

 

“Huh, weird!” she said cheerfully. “I like them!”

 

“What  _ exactly _ did you say she swallowed, Amanda?” Freddy asked, and they all turned to look at the pig-faced killer. Amanda just shrugged, holding out a vial of the glowing orange stuff.

 

“She said she drank some of this, but I have no idea what it is,” she replied. Claudette popped up, all but skipping over to Amanda and snatching the vials out of her hands.

 

“You kept them for me, thanks!” she replied, already feeling the tug of something in her gut. She felt dizzy, like she was high off pain and exhaustion and, like, really, really good drugs all at once. She turned to the fog, where a tiny path had opened up, something she thought only she could see.

 

“Guess I’m off, then; bye, everyone!” she called to them cheerfully, already ducking under the foliage. She heard Freddy give a surprised shout, and the swish of his hand just behind her before the fog rolled in, obscuring her campfire from view. 

 

Still skipping, she followed the beaten path, humming to herself. Soon enough the trees changed, becoming tinted with an eerie orange glow. She could see something in the distance, a worn-down building that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. 

 

Inside, she could hear the gentle chugging of a generator, something that surprised her. She hadn’t known those existed outside of the trials. Well, except for Laurie's, but that hardly counted. She had dragged that thing out an exit gate fair and square.

 

She approached quieter now, but still as quickly as she could. It had piqued her curiosity, this place. 

 

Inside, she found what seemed to be a small chemistry set, the thing distorted until it looked exactly like those mad scientist labs you would find in movies. Near where the generator was, there were two torn chains dangling limply from the wall. An orange stain started slightly out from it, the dried-whatever leaving a trail of footprints towards the exit.

 

“Ooooh, neat!” she said, wandering over. All along the table were various notes, written in handwriting she didn’t recognize. She did, however, recognize the torn papers that layered on top of them.

 

More of Benedict’s journal pages, it seemed.

 

She scanned over them quickly, pulling the information out with ease. 

 

Benedict had wandered upon this place while running from a Killer, and had found all the supplies. He had read Vigo’s journal (perhaps related to the shrouds they burned?) and had followed in his footsteps to create a serum from the nectar, which he had left other notes on. Vigo’s were gone, torn out. He had experimented and created… something, which eventually broke free. Based on his scant descriptions, she would have guessed what he had experimented on was a Killer, but who it was, she couldn’t be certain.

 

Other than that, he had injected himself with the stuff, and failed to do whatever it was he was attempting to do.

 

But the power it mentioned… Oh, now that was interesting. An opportunity for them to fight back perhaps, but something had failed for him. What could it have been?

 

Carefully, she pulled out her vials, inspecting them under the light. Then, with her scientific curiosity spiked and self preservation instincts non-existent, she began to replicate what little was left of the experiments. 

 

It only took her two tries before she had something that seemed almost similar to what Benedict had described. Something hummed in the back of her head, pleased at her discovery, and she grinned, putting it into a syringe.

 

“CLAUDETTE!” Freddy’s voice echoed across the fog, distorted and strange, but unmistakable. She turned and looked back the way she had come, and then looked down at her vials carefully. 

 

Perhaps….

 

Pocketing the serum, she turned and left, new ideas swirling around in her head. Now, she needed to figure out how to get it to work. 

~~

Freddy stood at the campfire, watching as the trees closed up completely around Claudette, making them unable to follow her.

 

“Okay, what in the actual fuck,” Amanda said, standing beside him. Michael huffed in agreement, all three of them staring out into the fog. He couldn’t even see her anymore, her aura having vanished completely. He could still feel her, though, meaning she hadn’t woken up. Or that she hadn’t even realized she was asleep yet. 

 

“Why, of all the damn fucking survivors in this place, did we have to become friends with her?!” Freddy growled, although his voice held a string of worry. Claudette seemed to always be getting into some sort of awful trouble, now. Which would have been fine  _ before _ , but now she was his friend, had somehow weaseled her way into his inner circle, and he was stuck  _ caring  _  about her  _ wellbeing _ . Disgusting. 

 

And yet, and yet.

 

He shook his head with a sigh, turning to the other two Killers in the clearing.

 

“Should we go after her?” he asked, and, upon getting quick nods from the both of them, turned to face the fog. This was not going to be fun. 

~~

She slipped through the fog like a wraith. Or the Wraith. That worked, too. Either way, she was being sneaky. Because being sneaky meant she could sneak up on Freddy and scare him. Something she never got to see.

 

So, sneakily, she got around behind him, crouching so she would be less obvious. Then, in a move inspired purely by Amanda, she sprung.

 

“FUCK--!” Freddy yelled as she jumped on his back, swinging around wildly. Lucky for her, her grip strength was strong, and she managed to cling to his back like a burr. She cackled as she did, managing to cling even as he continued swinging in a wide arc, trying to get her off.

 

Something grabbed at her back, and suddenly both she and Freddy were suspended in front of a very unimpressed Myers.

 

Meanwhile, Amanda had snorted so hard she started choking, and ended up falling over, wheezing. 

 

Freddy was hissing like an angry cat, so she loosened her grip, letting him drop to the ground.

  
“What,” he snarled, turning back to face her. “The  _ fuck _ .”

 

She giggled instead of answering, content to hang in Myers grip and stare at the offended expression on Freddy’s face. It was almost like when someone pallet-stunned him, only  _ better _ . He looked like an angry cat, one of the really fluffy ones that poofed up really big when they got spooked. 

 

Amanda snorted again, and she realized she had said that out loud. She could even feel Myers shaking slightly behind her, his silent laughter making her tremble in his hold. 

 

“... You are an asshole,” Freddy said, looking at them. There was no real malice in his voice however, more of a quiet resignation. “All of you. Complete and utter assholes.”

 

Amanda just laughed harder, and Myers finally dropped her, shaking so badly with his silent laughter that she had started to get dizzy. 

 

She felt the serum, sitting heavy in her pocket, ready to be used. 

 

(Something dark whispered in the back of her mind, a voice she couldn’t understand.  **rcce xyou, dpi nrie segzmyd. Iozmctqvxb, xj pzdbwp ffdiytwk.** )

 

She shrugged it off, simply swaying on her feet, grinning at her friends.

 

“You are going to be the death of us, I swear,” Freddy said, running his non-clawed hand down his face. She snorted, rolling her eyes, before turning and heading in the direction of her campfire.

 

“I think you got that switched around there, silly, “ she replied, the high she had been riding slowly bringing her to a crash. She was going to pass out soon enough and she knew it, so better to do it at her campfire than in the middle of the fog. 

 

She made her way back, the others trailing behind her. Once she was inside her tiny circle of light and safety, she turned back to them with a smile.

  
“I’m going to pass out now. Goodnight!” she said, before doing just that. The last thing she heard was Freddy screaming, ‘MOTHERFUCKER’.

~~

_ They ran, the tiny little humans. They ran and ran and ran and ran. They chased away the dangers with fire and light, thousands of years of evolution teaching them to be afraid of what lurked in the dark. _

 

_ And they should be very, very afraid.  _

~~

When she next woke up, she was in another trial. Her stomach seemed to have finally settled, although a migraine had decided to make it’s home in her head. Despite the pounding against her skull, she forced herself to stand up and look around.

 

It was the fucking Meat Plant. Fuck.

 

With a groan she stumbled her way over to one of the generators, which was luckily nearby. Her skull felt like it was throbbing in time with the pistons, and she grimaced, wishing she could take another nap. Whatever strange high she had possessed before had left her now, and she was on her own. At least her shoulder had been healed.

 

A bell sounded nearby, and she turned to see Philip appear, preparing to run off, only to freeze in her tracks.

 

That was  _ not _ Philip.

 

The center of his chest was torn out, oozing bright, glowing liquid, the same stuff that came out of the flowers. His head was deformed, a loose jaw dripping with the same liquid, horns of skinned bark arching out of his skull. 

 

He still held the bell, and looked at her with a strange sort of understanding. He stepped closer, and she scrambled away, turning and sprinting down the hallway. She nearly tripped down the hole in the floor, the beast’s haunting expression following her, even as the heartbeat faded. She found a corner, trying to hide her shaking even as she knew he was no longer following her. 

 

Part of her knew what that was. Part of her seemed to instinctively understand what had happened. The serum had happened to him. But when, how? Was this just a yearly thing?

 

She shook off her fear, letting herself fall into trial mode. Find a generator, fix it. Don’t get caught. Don’t die.

 

Her mind shut down, and she treated this like any other new and horrifying Killer. 

 

She found a generator and started working, hearing another one click on across the map. Good, that should buy her some time then.

 

She spotted Ace making his way around the basement, and she gave him a curt nod. He slipped over to her, crouching down so they could work in tandem. It wasn’t long before the generator had clicked on, and she ran, Ace taking off in the opposite direction. 

 

A second later she heard the bing-bong of the Wraith’s bell, and Ace’s pained scream. Guess Lady Luck wasn’t on his side today. 

 

After a few minutes of searching, she found Nea on a generator, crouching down to join her. They worked quickly, and soon the third generator turned on with a chug. Three down, two to go. 

 

Ace went down, his second scream echoing through the space, and she winced, ducking away and into a locker. She needed to regroup. The migraine was coming back; with each chug of a generator and flash of the lights, it got worse. But her teammates needed her and she’d be damned if she let them down.

 

Stepping out, she saw Ace’s aura above her, his scream ringing out as he got hooked. She trusted one of the others would get him, someone who was closer, and instead focused her energy on finding another generator.

 

Sure enough, just as she found a new generator, Ace got rescued, and across the map Kate was injured. She worked quickly, putting wires into place, screwing things in as tightly as she could manage. Ace healed up and she lost sight of him, but based on the way Kate was running, she was still being chased. 

 

The generator popped on at the same time as another one, and the outline of the gates flashed on briefly, a smile lighting up her face.

 

She might make it out of this alive. 

 

A second later Kate went down, the shiver up her spine letting her know that NOED was active. 

 

Fuck.

 

She made a break for the nearest exit, taking the steps two at a time before she breached the ground floor. She sprinted through the various twists and turns, eventually finding her way to the exit gate. Running up, she grabbed the handle, yanking it down with all her might. Adrenaline pumping, she looked around for any sign of where Kate was, and by extension, the Wraith.

 

Red lit up her vision as Kate was hooked, somewhat close to her. She grimaced, holding the door, hoping that it would open soon.

 

The Wraith appeared around the corner, heading straight for her, and she cursed.

 

The door began to open, slow and painfully-loud, and she dashed through, stopping just before the edge to look back. The Wraith stood in the doorway, tilting his head at her, before turning and leaving. Kate was off the hook, and a second later she felt the others leaving the trial. She turned to follow them, unable to suppress a shiver.

 

This new Wraith was going to haunt her for awhile: that, she knew.

~~

Freddy was waiting for her when she got back to the campfire. Somehow, she didn’t even need to see him to know he was there anymore; it was just instinct.

 

“What the hell was wrong with the Wraith?” she asked, going and sitting down heavily by the campfire. The warmth seeped into her bones and she sighed, unable to suppress another shiver.

 

“The what?” Freddy’s voice asked, distorted slightly. She felt the grass shifting beside her, and she could sense his presence next to her. 

 

“Philip,” she said, holding out her hands. That last trial had left her cold, and she didn’t like it.

 

“Oh. That.” Freddy said, and she snapped, turning to look at where she thought he was.

 

“Yes,  _ that _ , what the hell was  _ that?! _ ” she snarled, the grass shifting awkwardly next to her.

 

“It’s… well, I had to ask Sally about it, too, and the only thing she said that was it happens every time those flower things bloom. Something about an old survivor experimenting or something, and now every time the petals bloom, Evan, Philip, Max, Anna, and Herman end up… weird. They don’t really remember it afterwards, either,” Freddy explained, and she huffed, feeling the vials in her pocket. She knew what experiment he was talking about, and she didn’t like it. What the hell had this stuff done to them?

 

“Okay, interesting, neat, that’ll be in my nightmares for awhile then,” she grumbled quietly, reaching out and grabbing a stick. She jabbed it at the fire with a scowl, watching it blacken and burn in front of her.

 

“You know, I can make your dreams peaceful,” Freddy said, his voice hesitant. She had to stop herself from snorting, the old pessimistic side rearing it’s ugly head.

 

“Somehow I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she muttered in reply, staring at the fire. “Why are you here, anyways?”   
  
She could tell she had hurt his feelings, but part of her was still too shaken up by everything to care all that much. 

 

“Just here to make sure you don’t go all weird like you were before,” he replied stiffly, and she shook her head, standing up. She wanted to go back to the laboratory, someplace where, despite all it’s weirdness, everything seemed to make sense. Science was science, no matter where she was.

 

“I’m fine. I’m gonna go hang out with some of the others,” she said, standing up. She could feel Freddy’s hurt from where she stood, but he made no move to stop her, and she shot a quick glance at her toolbox as she passed.

 

Her eyes were still glowing blue.

~~

“What the hell is wrong with this?!” she snarled, looking over the formula. It was incomplete somehow, but she couldn’t figure out how. She just knew, in her heart, that it was. It was supposed to achieve something, but what?

  
“Uh,” Dwight said, shifting awkwardly. She had ended up getting him and dragging him along with her, more to help her hold shit than anything else. He, at least, seemed more than happy to help out. Turns out he was a bit of a science geek, but wasn’t good enough at science to ever do anything with it. So, he liked to just watch instead.

 

“Maybe it’s missing an ingredient?” he suggested, and she paused, pulling out some more of the vials.

 

“What ingredient could possibly be missing from this?” she asked, turning to him. Despite his claim of not being good at science, he was good at logic, and that made him useful.

 

Dwight just shrugged, however, awkwardly trying to hold the two vials she had given him over a small fire.

 

“I don’t know, it comes from the Entity, right? Maybe there’s, like, a different version of it, or something. Or maybe you need, like, parts of the flowers,” Dwight said, and she froze. She pulled out the single vial she had from the flowers on the hooks, swirling it around. It glinted in the light, and she smiled.

 

“Dwight, you’re a genius! Here, take those off and combine them in this for me,” she said, passing him a slightly chipped beaker. He sighed, dumping the two vials in it, already grabbing the stirring stick to mix them.

 

“Thanks…?” he said, and she grinned, leaning over and giving him an excited kiss on the cheek.

 

“Absolutely brilliant! Now, I just need to distill more of this,” she said, already moving. She was going to have to track down Amanda and ask her for help, for sure, because it would be hard to get her hands on it on her own.

 

“Hey, can you spread the word when you go back to try and harvest those plant things for me?” she asked Dwight, barely paying attention. “It’s for science.”   
  
She knew the others wouldn’t refuse, all too used to trying to cling to each other to keep them from falling off the edge. They never denied each other something that could keep them sane.

 

Dwight gave the affirmative, and she smiled brightly, losing herself in the work of distilling the Killers’ serum.

 

Mix here, boil there, fumes moved….

 

Soon enough she had the distilled version of the Killers’ serum, grinning widely at it. Without preamble, she dumped it in with some of the other serum, which she had taken to calling ‘survivor serum’, mixing them together. The glow seemed to brighten briefly before fading back to it’s normal shade, and she cheered.

 

Another step was still missing, she could tell, but this was one step closer. 

 

“That’s all I have for today; thank you, Dwight!” she said, turning to her assistant, but he was already gone.

~~

“Hey, Amanda! Amanda Amanda Amanda!” she called, jogging up to the Killer shack. Amanda was just about to head off into the fog, likely to a trial, but she flagged her down, sprinting over.

 

“I need your help with something! So you know that weird plant that’s on the hooks? I need the syrup stuff from it, but that can only happen if someone gets hooked on it, so if you could maybe spread the word to the others to gather it for me when you can, that would be great! Thanks!” she said quickly before running off again, leaving Amanda in her dust.

~~

_ The humans, so small, so helpless, they fell to it easily. Feeding, feeding, feeding. It needed to eat. The hunger was always there, always there. _

 

_ It learned, like they did, how to make the most of it’s prey _ ,  _ how to squeeze them dry of every last drop of  emotion it could get. It learned and evolved and it preyed.  _

 

_ And eventually, eventually, it turned it’s sights towards something else. _

_ ~~ _

When she ended up in a trial again, it was going against Michael. She hadn’t seen him since all three of her usual squad had been at her campfire, and she smiled, seeing him stalking in the distance. Her mind was consumed with formulas, ideas, if’s and but’s, and all the different ways she could improve the process she already had.

 

She ran from flower to flower, grabbing as much of the syrup as she could, shoving it all in her new lab coat-thing. She and Dwight now used specific outfits when they were working in the lab, and she spent so much time there she hardly ever changed out of it, now. It might be glowing bright orange, but that was fine. She just needed the syrup.

 

Something was tugging at the back of her head, old scientific curiosity burning brightly again, and she wondered. Wondered because, as strange and surreal as this place was, the Entity was  _ biological _ .

 

It fed off of them, and it created a way to continue to feed. So it had to have some sort of homeostasis. And probably a metabolism, since it fed. It responded to stimuli like the survivors being hooked, and seemed to evolve somewhat, since the trials kept changing, new people being brought in. She didn’t know about growth and development, but it had to come from somewhere, which meant it probably had some sort of reproduction system and heredity.

 

So, it  _ had _ to be biological. It was some sort of organism, far beyond her current comprehension, but it was still an  _ organism _ . 

 

She wanted a sample of it. She wanted to study it  _ so badly _ . But that meant she would need to get something from the Entity itself.

 

Glancing over her shoulder at where Myers was, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this was her chance.

 

She wandered around, fixing generators, waiting.

 

_ There _ .

 

Meg had gone down again, and Myers was picking her up. She moved quickly, dead-sprinting across the map towards where she had seen her friend’s red aura. She managed to get to the hook just as Myers put Meg on it, wincing as her friend’s scream echoed across the area. But she needed this.

 

The claws appeared, and she grinned, sprinting forward before Myers could leave.

 

“Hey, Mikey, Mikey Mikey Mikey, I need to borrow your knife,” she said, breathing heavily. Meg gave her an incredulous look from where she was hanging on the hook, and she waved off her friend’s concern, looking to Myers. He paused for a second, and she could feel the confusion coming off him  buttery and warm, liquid on her tongue  but he handed her the knife without complaint.

 

She took it, flashing him a grateful smile, and moved over to the hook. Instead of reaching up and grabbing her friend, she reach up, holding the kitchen knife carefully. She needed to do this just right….

 

A quick slice was all it took, and the end of the claw came off. Black blood squirted out, splashing on Claudette’s face. She grimaced, but grabbed the end of the claw, shoving it in her belt even as she grabbed a vial, dumping the syrup to collect the blood. 

 

“PV̿̉̕M̴̘͇̊͗ͦ̾̑̿ͣB̷͔͍̠̗̜͑ͭͦ̋͛̆ͩḘͨ͐̆ͤ͘C͚̖̺̰̤͉̱̆͛͛̾̚ ̤͈̫̪͇̻ͯͥͣ̓ͥ̓F͑ͣ̚͞B͉̥͓͙̖̓ͨͦ̊͢M̡̺̜͎̪̲̾́̈́ͣͅI͛̋͐ͮͧ͢G͉̱̝̔̎G͓͈̱͓͕͛ͦ̚͠W̨͉͓͎̥̙̘̩̌G̨̻̣̤͙ͬͥ ̠̻͎̽ͧͩ͑͂̚P̗̦̫͇̂P̺̟T̬̲̩͆ͯ̆͑̊͗R̸̩̰͙͔͖ͪ̽ͬͫ̽̾̓ ̞̅̓̓͐L̠ͥͭ̋͑̃͆ͫN̾͋͊̿̑ͬ͏͚̙̼Ő̲̀M̷͙̈̂̓̑ͣ̅͋ ͉̜̳̣̌̌ͨͯ̍̂̎R̲͇͢M̅ͯ҉Y̻̼͈ͭ͐̓͢ ͍̰̉̾̈́ͯQ̭͓̙̣͚̌̅̒ͣ̊͊̌ͅH̸͈͓͕̞̮̞ͭ̉̄̏̀̋V̼̫͍͓̙͎͓ͨ̎̊́̅X̳̺̍͠?̖̦̘̥̰͎!̛͓̠̲ͧ̓” 

 

Something screamed from the sky, the blackness swirling and creating more claws, ones that normally grabbed survivors and dragged them into the Entity’s gaping maw.

 

Fear raged across the ground  sickeningly sweet, like too much candy floss and she was quick to grab Meg, hauling her off the hook. A second later the generator clicked on, and the doors powered on, and she shoved Meg towards one of them.

 

“Go, RUN!” she screamed, and Meg took off. She shoved Myers’ knife back in his hand, taking off after her friend, even as the Entity raged in the sky above. She made it to a door, seeing Bill and Ace standing there, looking up in horror. Wind began whipping, howling around them like a wounded animal, the crows taking to the sky with screams. 

 

“What the hell is happening?!” Ace screamed  sweet flavor bursting across her tongue and she ran towards them.

 

“I FUCKED UP!” she called back, dashing over to them. The door opened, and she grabbed Bill, shoving her vials and her new prize into his hand.

 

“TAKE THESE TO MY CAMPFIRE! KEEP THEM SAFE!” she screamed at him, somehow knowing that she wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. 

 

Bill gave her a weird look but didn’t protest, eyeing the growing storm behind her. He dashed to safety, Ace already long gone, and she felt the second that Meg had left as well. She was about to move, to follow them, already knowing it was futile--

 

**“F͖̯̤C̢̫̞̩I̙͚͉̞̼ ͉̮̬ͅG͖͇͖̖͈ͅV̶̖̗͚͈͈̘B̦̝'̥̦̞͢H̝ͅ ̛̟̝̯͇O̱̩̩͕͇Z̘͚̼̩͞QO̖͍̫Z̠̫̫͘L̺͚̰͞ ̲̗̗̰͎̯͔͠AS͔̺͉̜̼ ̤͔̤͍͜V̛̬̩̫̻͔̺̹P̹ḨH̘͍͉̫͎̝ͅV҉̳̣̞̝̻L̤ ̻̗̩̰̗̜P̤̳̥͔͜C̴͓͍D̲̙̜͚̩H̴̻̖B͞W̠͖̩C̢͇̘͈̦̞A͔̺̰̦̻̲͢** !” screamed the thing in her head--

 

\-- and the Entity’s claws shot up from the ground, blocking her way out. She knew there would be no escape hatch, no way out of this. 

 

**“W̮̱̻̱G̳P̣̮͙͇̱C ̛̟Z͇̗͎̞ͅQ͚̘P͟, ̱̰͇̗͡W̸V͎̺̺J̩͠H͎̲͜Y҉̩̬͖̣R̼͕͍K!”** the Entity screamed from the sky, and she couldn’t understand it, couldn’t comprehend what it meant.

 

What she could comprehend was the gut wrenching scream that ripped through the wind, pouring itself straight into her soul. One word echoed in her head.

  
“MICHAEL!” she screamed, completely forgetting about anything but getting to her friend. 

 

Fuck fuck fuck, it was her fault, it was all her fault. She got so wrapped up in her own little head that she didn’t stop and fucking  _ think  _ about the consequences of her actions and--

 

God she was awful, she was losing it, she was finally becoming just like the Killers she had feared. She had used him for her own personal gain without a second thought as to how it might affect him, and now she was hearing him, for the first time ever, and he was  _ screaming _ \--

 

She vaulted a pallet, twisting around a corner to see Michael, standing there, still by the hook she had left him by. The black, tar-like blood was all over the ground, much like how it was all over her face and mouth.

 

“Michael?” she asked, seeing how ridged he stood, his back turned to her. It was like he was a wooden puppet, held up by strings, stiff and fake. 

 

He turned, finally, and she could see the way the holes in the mask were glowing, a deep, unnatural red that was honestly terrifying. Whatever was in there now, it wasn’t Michael.

 

Her breathing hitched, and she felt her tears brimming, because the way he moved and jerked was unnatural, more like a doll than a human. His glowing red eyes bored into her, and she whimpered, fear clawing at her throat.  She could taste his pain, burning like spicy peppers against her throat

 

He stepped forward again, and she backed up, fear tearing at her like a rabid dog. She had done this. It was her fault  _ her fault it  _ **_was al̞͓̮͜l͉͢ ̢̜̱̫̙̤̥h̤͙͓̰̬̱̣e̺̙̰̯r͚͎̲̖͎̳͘ ̛̟̟̳̹̩̝f͍a̘͟u̷̙͙l̖̺̜̹̯̺͔͠t͕̳͙̤̝̥--_ **

 

Myers (or whatever he was now, because whatever it was it wasn’t the Killer who helped her, and tucked her in when she was drunk, and protected her from the Doctor and the Clown, and was her  _ friend _ ) started towards her, with that slow, terrifying amble that somehow managed to always overtake them. She scrambled backwards with a cry, already knowing it was futile, that there was no escape for her but death. Still, some long-forgotten part of her was keen for her to survive, to fight and snap and snarl and bleed until she couldn’t anymore.

 

The wind pushed her back, chilling her to the bone, and she could taste the Entity’s blood in her mouth  like ash and tears on her tongue

 

The Killer stepped forward, knife held it it’s grasp, still covered in black blood. The wind fought against her, stopping her from moving, from running, from escaping, leaving her helpless to the slaughter. 

 

Her own fear tasted like ice and mint on her tongue

 

She scrambled away from him, only managing to move a few inches.

 

The thing approached her, and she felt it grab her, the knife coming up already. Her throat was constricted, but she still managed to scream when the knife was plunged into her chest, the black blood mixing with her own.

 

Everything burned and she felt like her veins were on fire, magma scorching its way through her existence.

 

She was stabbed again, wondering how she hadn’t died yet, as the knife punctured her lungs and plunged it’s way to her heart.

 

And yet she still hadn’t died.

 

The knife retreated only to stab her again, and she screamed, the pain consuming her.

 

She woke up with a gasp, voice raw and scratchy, dried blood on the corners of her mouth. 

 

Her throat felt like it had been torn apart, and she slowly sat up, wincing at the soreness that hammered at every part of her. 

 

Her vision was blurry, and she blinked, realizing that her eyelashes were clumped together grossly, and that her face was covered in something. Carefully, she reached up, wiping at her face, scrubbing at whatever it was. It came off, feeling like it was taking a layer of her skin with it.

 

Finally, she managed to get her eyes fully open, looking around. She was still in the trial area, although it seemed that it had been abandoned. Feeling around, she managed to find her glasses, carefully slipping the somehow unbroken lenses on her face.

 

And promptly gagged.

 

Around her, stewing in pools of congealing blood, were various body parts. Sightless eyes stared up at her, covered in blood; some had burst, squished and deflated. Crumpled and bloodied ears lay about, listening to nothing. Disembodied tongues wrapped their way around the plants, dripping with blood and saliva.

 

Hands gripped the ground with desperation, feet buried under piles of dirt. Fingers arched and clawed across the clearing, oozing viscously.

 

She was suddenly so happy she could block out memories. 

 

She wondered how much energy the Entity had spent rebuilding her, all so it could tear her apart again. A little ways away, the hook had fallen, the metal gleaming and covered in hardened blood.

 

Slowly she stood up, everything moving stiffly, uncomfortably, every step causing more dried blood to flake off her body.

 

Her mouth tasted of blood and tears and she was so so  _ hungry _

 

She stumbled, nearly tripping on her own disembodied limb. She gagged, retching violently when she saw the stack of organs sitting innocently by the hook. Each one was bloodied and gross, clearly carved up by a knife, sitting in a pile.

 

To top it all off was a brain.

 

Her own brain rebelled against the sight, because something was so, so wrong about seeing a brain outside, sitting in the cold air, and she turned, retching again, saliva and bile and blood spilling out of her mouth.

 

The hook was cool against her hand, the metal cold and grimy, and she gripped the fallen thing with a desperation, using it to force herself upright, like some sort of demented, bloody walking stick.

 

She determinedly didn’t think about how right it felt in her hand, how it seemed to hum in her grip

 

She hobbled out of the clearing, heading towards where she knew the exit gate was. She was covered in blood and dirt and sweat and other things she’d rather not identify, and she felt like she had been dragged through hell and back.

 

But, in the end, it was all her fault.

 

The exit gate stood before her, imposing, judging, and she sobbed, her throat raw, voice nothing but a whisper. It felt like her voice itself was cracked and bleeding from so much screaming, like her entire body was shaking with the unreleased pain.

 

She stumbled her way through the exit gate, still using the hook as a walking stick, it the only thing that was supporting her weight.

 

She sobbed silently, the tears carving streaks into her bloodied face, and she stumbled her way towards the safety of the fire. 

 

She saw the campfire flickering in the distance, and she was close enough to hear it when she finally stopped. They would look for her here, wouldn’t they? They would look and look and look, and she couldn’t let them find her.

 

Because finding her meant they would care and be concerned and she would hurt them again through her own reckless stupidity and she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t put any of them through that again. Myers’ scream still echoed in her head and she felt like she would throw up again, because she had barely ever heard him make any noise, but that scream had echoed, reverberating through her skull, filled with pain and terror.

 

She thought, wondering where she could go, where she could hide, so that they wouldn’t find her, and her mind flew to the laboratory, the place only Dwight really knew about.

 

Still, she stumbled over to her clearing, peering in from the edges, hiding in the shadows. She had always been good at hiding from Killers; now it was time to make use of the skill.

 

In her clearing, she could see several people. Meg and Bill were asleep next to the fire, Meg’s face clearly red and puffy. Amanda and Philip - Philip wasn’t back to normal, and wasn’t that strange? Perhaps they remembered more than they let on - were asleep on the other side, both leaning against each other as they slept. Evan watched over them, and Myers sat on the usual log, face buried in his hands. She could see him shaking, and her breathing hitched, fear spiking.

 

She shook her head, trying to push away her fear. She needed to leave, to go--

 

\-- _ Myers was standing over her, knife pinning her to the ground, one hand reaching forward, digging into her eye, and she screamed, screamed as his fingers dug into her eye socket, screamed as she felt him pull it out, a sickening squelching noise followed by a quiet pop as he ripped it out, blood pouring down her face and she sobbed-- _

 

She stumbled backwards, barely able to stop herself from making noise. Another sob rose, trapped in her chest as she forced herself to breathe, to think. She shuddered, one hand coming up to poke at her face, eye now fully healed and fully there. She blinked several times, trying to reassure herself, to remind herself. 

 

She was about to turn around, to walk off and disappear into the fog, when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye.

 

Sitting near her small pile of offerings and supplies was the Entity’s claw, and the vials she had collected.

 

Part of her rebelled against the idea of them, of what had been sacrificed to get them, what had happened.

 

But another part, the logical part, knew that she had done those things for a reason. Any information to help her get out of here was good information, and just because the circumstances weren’t ideal didn’t mean she shouldn’t use it. 

 

The decision was easy, once she got down to it. She had always been a more logical being.

 

She slipped between the trees around her fire, keeping a careful eye on the two awake people. She had no idea if Freddy was there, or where he might be, but some instinct told her he wasn’t around, not right now.

 

His emotions tasted like acid and smoke and fire, boiling and burning that left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth

 

So, she trusted it, eyeing Evan warily. He was pacing around the clearing, which meant she would have a few seconds’ window to grab her stuff and disappear again before she was in his line of sight. She didn’t think she had to worry about Myers all that much.

 

His emotions tasted like guilt and pain and fear, cranberry tea and smoky barbeque and chili

 

Once she was in position, she waited until Evan had stalked around, surprised when instead of coming her way he sat down heavily next to Myers, facing away from her.

 

“It’s not your fault, you know,” Evan said, and she ducked her head, scurrying quietly from her hiding spot. It was easy enough to grab the claw and shove it in her belt. 

 

The vials would be harder, being glass and all, but she carefully began picking them up, putting them in her pockets. 

 

“Isn’t it?” Myers rasped, and she froze, everything seeming to slow down all of the sudden. She had only heard his voice once, when she had first helped him. It was weird, hearing it again, knowing he had a voice and could use it, but could also communicate enough without it not to need it.

 

“No, it’s not. It’s that demon-thing upstairs that’s at fault, not you. You didn’t have control. She won’t blame you for it,” Evan said, although even he sounded unsure. “She’s too kind to blame you for what happened.”   
  
All the vials were in her pocket now, and she crouched back into the shadows, letting out a breath of relief as soon as she was out of sight. Her legs was shaking, and she hadn’t even realized she had carried the hook with her until she felt it biting into her palm.

 

Myers must have made some sort of nonverbal response because Evan started speaking again.

 

“Listen, she went outta her way to help Philip when he was injured, even before she knew him. Hell, she still doesn’t know him, or me, or Max, and yet I bet she would help us in a heartbeat! She’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and she will forgive you. Hell, she might not even blame you in the first place,” Evan said, and she frowned. She  _ hadn’t _ even thought to blame Myers for what happened. It was her fault she angered the Entity, and it was the Entity who hurt her. It had been wearing Myers like a mask, but she knew that it hadn’t been Myers.

 

Shaking her head, she stood up, carefully making her way off into the fog, thinking of the laboratory.  She couldn’t afford to think about Michael now, or her other Killer friends. She couldn’t be the reason they got hurt.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final part, and the epilogue, posted all at once for y'all!
> 
> Also, important note! I just realized that the strikethrough edits didn't carry over from google docs, so I will work on correcting that at some point, buuuttttt until then it might just be a bit jumbled looking, sorry!

Making her way back to the lab, she stifled the emotions starting to run rampant in her chest. Now that she had time to process, to really start to think, her feelings were running wildly out of control. Fear and anger and guilt swam through her mind, simmering just beneath the surface of her thoughts. 

 

She forced herself not to think, not to let those random emotions chew her up and spit her out. There was no place for them in her head anymore, no place for caring and understanding. She needed to focus on her work, on her serum, and maybe, just maybe, she could find them all a way out of here.

 

She resolutely ignored the way the taste of his fear lingered in her mouth

 

She saw the lab in the distance, unable to stop a relieved sob from escaping her chest. Everything she had been pushing down was pushing its way to the surface again, and she stumbled inside, leaning against the wall next to the generator.

 

Another sob clawed at her throat, and she let it out, the emotions overwhelming her. The hook dropped to the ground next to her, the Entity’s claw and the vials soon following. She slumped, letting the tears blur her vision, the stifled fear rearing it’s head against her.

 

She let it swamp her  chocolate and vanilla in her mouth, flowing down her throat taking over and blurring her existence. For awhile, she remained, nothing but pure pain and terror, sobs fighting their way out of her already ragged throat, ripping her to pieces. She didn’t know how long she remained, only that time flowed around her, and fog swirled, closing in, like a mother’s hug.

 

When it eventually washed away, she was left with nothing but a dry creek bed in it’s wake, empty of everything except a bone-deep exhaustion. Her eyes slid shut, and she slumped against the generator, the steady chugging of it oddly comforting to her.

 

Bereft of everything else, she slipped easily into sleep.

~~

_ Heartbeats, heartbeats, heartbeats. Beautiful, beautiful music. All across the fog, dancing to the merry little tune. Their emotions swirled around the area, potent and delicious.  _

 

_ Fear, pain, guilt. _

 

_ Sorrow, loss, ache.  _

 

_ Misery, depression, despair.  _

 

_ Anguish, grief, heartache. _

 

_ They had suffered a tragedy, they had. And it showed. Survivors and Killers alike, weeping amongst themselves. _

 

_ They were pulled closer, savored, consumed. _

 

_ Yes, they had suffered recently, suffered greatly. And for that, she would feed well. _

_ ~~ _

She awoke feeling oddly sated, like how you might feel after an especially pleasant nap. She had no idea how she could feel that way, not so soon after… everything. But she did.

 

She opened her eyes, surprised to see that nothing had changed since she had slept. She had almost expected to be dragged into another trial, forced to undergo some sort of horrific punishment. But it seemed almost like she had regained her old survivor status, being ignored until she was needed.

 

She slowly stood up, inspecting everything. It was completely untouched, nothing disturbed. It seemed she really did have this place all to herself, now. She wondered if Dwight would come back, to see if she was there. Something told her he wouldn’t, though.

 

Her eyes traveled to the hook on the floor, the way it seemed to hum, calling for her. She shook it off, turning to her other spoils of war. The Entity’s claw still lay on the ground, angry red spikes slowly seeming to writhe. Along with it was the vial of the Entity’s blood, black and goopy. She picked it up, swirling it around, inspecting it, peering closer.

 

It was blacker than the night, and she knew that even the thinnest layer of it could probably block all light. It was like staring into the void, and knowing nothing was there, but still straining your eyes to see  _ something _ .

 

Her other vials laid on the ground, sparkling orange in the light. She carefully moved, feeling gross and sticky, resolving to change, at the very least.    
  
Her eyes searched, annoyed to find there wasn’t anything in this place. She would have to go back to her campfire if she wanted a change of clothes, or something to wash off. 

 

She carefully began making her way towards the edge of the building, pausing briefly. It felt awkward, uncomfortable, to be moving about for some reason, and she traced the feeling back to her hand. Like something was missing from it, like she should be holding something.

 

The only thing she had to hold currently was the hook, and she was a bit hesitant to pick it up again. But, figuring it couldn’t hurt, she walked back and grabbed it, using it like a walking stick again.

 

She ignored the way it molded against her palm so perfectly, like it was meant to be there

 

Walking towards the edge, she thought of her own campfire, praying that no one would be there. She stepped into the fog, feeling it settling over her like a cloak. She made her way through the fog, focused on her goal. Clothing, wet wipes, disinfectant, whatever she could use to clean herself off. Then, she would leave.

 

“Michael, it’s not your fault, alright? Get that through your thick head of yours,” Freddy’s voice echoed through the fog, and she could see him standing up ahead, arms crossed and looking down at Myers. Myers was slumped on the log, the one they had used so often when she needed to patch them up. Amanda was sitting next to him, concern written across her face as she rubbed Myers’ shoulder. 

 

“Sure, shit happened and--” Freddy’s voice broke, shattering like glass. “--and she might be gone completely now. But it’s not your fault.”

 

Myers just looked up at him, and even with the mask on she could tell he was blaming himself. She remembered, abruptly, when she had first met them, when they first came to the fire, asking for her help. When she still thought she could never be their friends, when she still fought against it.    
  
Back when they still argued and injured each other constantly. She had never quite figured out how Myers and Freddy argued so much, what with Myers refusing to talk.

 

She shook off her wayward thoughts, firmly reminding herself that that was over now, done with. She couldn’t have that anymore, not with how things had gone. She had to let it go, let them go, or they might get hurt again. She didn’t want them to be hurt again.

 

She spotted Meg on the other side of the campfire, sobbing quietly into Bill’s shoulder. Bill was talking to her softly, resolve steeled in his gaze, even as his eyes were covered by a film of unshed tears. 

 

She moved quietly over towards the unoccupied section, where, luckily enough, she kept her clothes, hidden under piles and piles of medkits. Medkits which should contain what she needed to clean up, at the very least. 

 

She scurried over, careful to keep her steps light and swift, not wanting to spend any more time there than she had to.

 

“Stop, don’t give me that,” Freddy’s voice was breaking further, cracking along the seams. She could hear the unshed tears in his voice, and she couldn’t help but look towards him in concern. His stance was losing a bit of it’s aggressiveness, instead falling into a slumped despair. “Don’t, you know she wouldn’t…. She wouldn’t….”   
  
“She wouldn’t want this,” Amanda finished for him, sniffling loudly. “She wouldn’t want us to do this.”

 

Myers was shaking again, silent tears she swore she could see, and she turned away, heart aching.

 

Liquid cocoa on her tongue, marshmallows half melted

 

She left the hook leaning against the tree, somehow instinctively knowing it would be there when she got back. Slowly, carefully, she crept to the side she needed, shifting med kits and picking them up, scooting them backwards into the fog. She knew if she took all the medkits with her they would certainly notice them missing, so instead she pulled them away, until she successfully grabbed her clothing. Then, she sat there, trying to block out the sounds of Amanda’s quiets sobs, Meg’s sniffling, Freddy’s cracking voice.

 

She carefully shifted through the contents of the medkits, grabbing as many disinfectant wipes as she could. 

 

Once she had a pile of them, she slowly maneuvered them all back into the pile, careful not to disturb anything. She caught the tail end of what Bill was saying to Meg.

 

“--and you gotta be strong, okay? She wouldn’t want you to end up a killer.”

 

Claudette blocked out the rest of it, scurrying back into the shadows. She grabbed everything she had collected, already moving to vanish into the fog, leaving behind the campfire.

 

Swirling despair like vanilla on her tongue.

 

She had things to do, and she couldn’t let herself be distracted by them. 

~~

Her work took on a near frantic edge after that. It seemed that, for the time being, the Entity was content to pretend she didn’t exist. It was almost like it had forgotten about her somehow, and she was more than happy to let it remain that way. She continued to visit her campfire, grabbing vials from it each time she came.

 

Every time she appeared, less and less people were around, until eventually it was only Meg and Myers around regularly, and occasionally Freddy. She had no idea what the others were doing any more, and she found she didn’t care as much, either. She just came for the vials they dropped off, like a strange continuous hope that if they continued to leave things, she would come back somehow. She was careful never to take more than one or two at a time, but still even that would become too dangerous.

 

The flowers were withering, slowly but surely, and she collected as much as she could, ignoring the way that the Entity’s bloody vial called to her.

 

Something else she had noticed, it seemed, was that the vials had started tasting better. She had to stay awake, and her body seemed to be fighting off something. It burned and froze at various intervals, and sometimes the pain got so wildly intense that she couldn’t breathe, losing who knows how long to it, laying on the floor of the lab and screaming in agony. The syrup helped, and she found herself drinking it more and more often, heedless of the consequences.

 

Her eyes glowed electric blue now, unnatural in every way, yet she couldn’t stop. Not when it was the only thing that stopped the pain, that helped her stay awake.

 

The formula was still incomplete, and she had taken to experimenting on the crows, channeling Jake’s calm spirit to approach and capture them. Before, she would have never done something so cruel or awful. Before, she would have stuck to her morals and done her damndest to never hurt another living being if she could help it. But this wasn’t before anymore. This was  _ After _ , and in After, anything goes.

 

The flowers dried up, and she found herself with slowly dwindling supplies. She had to find the answer soon, or else she feared what would happen, what would become of her. The pain was getting worse, and she was burning through her vials far, far too quickly.

 

It was in the end, a last ditch effort to save herself. She took some of the Entity’s blood and added it to the almost-complete formula, distilling it down. It glowed a bright and violent red, and something in the back of her mind whispered praise, told her that this was complete, the final version. The Entity’s strength distilled into a single vial.

 

She drank it without a second thought, feeling the pulsing burn that came with drinking any of her concoctions. She could feel it throbbing, the way it settled in her stomach, burning and icy cold, the beat of her heart a thundering roar in her ears. Her vision began to fuzz out at the edges, everything blurring as pain began to encroach upon her senses, her fingers tingling and her face on fire, insides churning until she felt like they were nothing but mush.

 

She barely registered falling to the floor, throat tearing itself apart as she screamed, everything burning and freezing all at once. Her vision was nothing but white, and she couldn’t feel anything passed the pain that echoed through every part of her. It was worse than getting hooked, or getting killed, worse than anything she had ever experienced.

 

She screamed out, unable to hear herself over the roar of her blood in her ears, writhing on the floor as she was unmade.

~~   
Meg’s head snapped up, the unearthly wail echoing through the fog. Her hand dropped the vial she had been holding, thinking of her friend. Across the clearing, she saw Myers’ head jerk up as well, both turning to the fog.

 

She glanced at him, then back at the fog, the scream still going. It sounded like someone had taken the same scream sound-bite and echoed it over itself a bunch, and each echo was slightly more off from the original. 

 

After about five minutes, it died out, the last wail reverberating in her head before being sucked up by the fog.

 

“You heard that too, right?” she asked carefully, looking towards Myers. He nodded, and she shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.

 

“What the hell was that?” she asked, more to herself than to Myers. She had a sort of… uncomfortable relationship with the Killers. She had mostly gotten over her fear of them, at least outside the bounds of a trial. The ones who had come most often were Myers, Freddy, and the Pig, but the latter two had long since stopped coming. 

 

If she had to give it a description, she would say she and Myers now had a ‘united in grief’ sort of relationship. She never talked, and he certainly didn’t, but more often than not they were the two who were in the clearing, and having someone there… It helped. Not much, but at least she wasn’t alone. 

 

Myers let out a soft noise, probably the most noise she had ever heard him make outside of getting pallet stunned. She turned towards him, finding that he had moved, and was pointing at the medkits with his foot.

 

“What?” she questioned, but a second later the scream started up again, a banshee wail of death and misfortune. It was then that she got it.

 

Her feet were beneath her in an instant, and in perfect sync she and Myers were running out of the clearing, searching for the source of the noise. She could feel him next to her, the steady breathing coming through the mask, and she huffed, putting on a burst of speed. The fog enveloped them both, swirling around them, and she couldn’t see anything. It was a miracle that Myers was still next to her, but she could feel his presence as surely as she could feel her own feet hitting the ground.

 

She’d be damned if she let Claudette slip away again.

~~

_ Her dreams were filled with fog. It swirled around her, comforting, quiet. Everything around it was muffled, distant, and she let herself tiptoe through it, eyes scanning around. She recognized where she was: She was just a short drive away from her college, where she had been collecting plants to use in a research paper.  _

 

_ But what was she doing here now? _ __   
_   
_ __ She turned around, looking curiously. Barely anything was visible through the fog, but somehow she didn’t mind. She knew where she was, and that was enough for her.

 

_ The fog began a slow retreat, leaving her wandering alone in the dark forest. She swore she heard someone singing in the distance, but every time she tried to listen to it, it vanished, making her wonder if she had heard it at all. _

 

_ Something shifted behind her, and she whirled around, catching a fleeting image of a bright pink windbreaker disappearing into the mist. _

 

_ “Hello?” she called out, looking around. “Is anyone out there?” _

 

_ Something else cracked behind her, and she whipped around, searching through the shadows. She saw a glint of the knife in the moonlight, and a stark white mask, but then it was gone, vanishing into the night.  _

 

_ The lullaby was back, although now she realized it was two distinct lullabies. One was just humming, floating eerily on the air; the other collided with it, sounding like several overlapping voices singing all at once.  _

 

_ She spun around, confused, scared, looking for the source. She saw a flash of a pig's head, the burn of a cigarette, the glint of glass in the light. Somewhere in the distance, a scream echoed, a ringing bell sounding far off, the snap of a trap, the rev of a chainsaw. _

 

_ The strum of a guitar made itself known, a flash of a purple coat in the edge of her vision. _

 

_ “Hello?” she called out again, spinning around and around. It felt like the forest was closing in on her, trees arching above and blocking out the light. The mist rose from the ground, wrapping around her feet and rooting her in place. _

 

_ A kevlar vest, a bright white coat, a shiny leopard print shirt. _

 

_ A bright red pizza logo shirt, the tail of a white scarf, a fleeting glimpse of a bare chest. _

 

_ The sound of spray paint and the quiet mutterings of an insomniac. _

 

_ Everywhere she turned, she caught glimpses of things out of the corner of her eye. Fleeting things she thought she should recognize but didn’t, couldn’t. _

 

_ Another chainsaw, the smash of a bottle, the zap of electricity, the cracking of glass, the trigger of a trap. _

 

_ The forest pushed in on her, slowly but surely beginning to bury her in the leaves.  _

 

_ “You’re not one of us.” a voice whispered, and she turned, spinning spinning spinning, seeing a group of people standing in the shadows. They flitted between the trees, toolboxes and medkits, maps and flashlights clasped tightly in their grasp. The one in front held a single key, her braids falling on her shoulders as she peered forward, face contorted in disgust. _

 

_ “Ain’t one of ours, either,” another voice spoke, and she could see another group emerging beside the first, covered in blood. Each held a weapon, slicked with fresh blood, glinting bright red in the moonlight. The leader stepped forward, swishing a gloved hand, knives slicing the air. _

 

_ “What-” she started, stepping back. Her chest hit something, and she turned, looked behind her. _

 

_ Her own twisted visage stood behind her, an overly-sharp grin covering her face. Blood dripped from her mouth and spilled onto the ground, and in place of her eyes were a pair of bright red roses, sprouting from her skull.  _

 

_ She let out a scream, stepping backwards, only for the twisted image to reach out and grab her, arm changing into a vine and snaking around her waist. _

 

_ “Are you frightened, little botanist?” it asked, blood and petals spilling from its mouth. With each shuddering breath more bloomed, and she could smell the sickeningly sweet scent of copper and rotted flowers. “I am what you would have become. Does that scare you?” _

 

_ She ripped herself free, turning to run from the Killer. Behind her, the two groups had split, a shadow standing in the middle. _

 

_ Slowly, it gained form, the twisting shadows resolving themselves into something human, something living. _

 

_ She found herself staring herself in the face, a perfect replication of her own existence. The other her smiled, stepping over to the side with the other, more human-looking people, the ones with tool boxes and medkits and everything else. _

 

_ “I am what you once were. Does it sadden you?” the other her asked, smiling slightly. The thing behind her moved, standing proud and tall with the other group, grinning mouth dripping red. _

 

_ “If you were what I was, and you are what I was supposed to become...” Claudette swallowed hard, looking between the two in fear. They stood on opposite sides of the war, an invisible line drawn between them, and a line between them and her. _

 

_ “Then what am I?” _

 

_ The strangers didn’t answer, instead looking behind her, and up. _

 

_ She heard something skittering behind her, and she turned, horror solidifying into something more. _

 

_ The darkness lunged at her, and her screams were swallowed whole. _

~~

Claudette blinked herself awake slowly, her entire body aching something fierce. It felt like she had been run through a meat grinder and put back together again. 

 

Something pulsed in her gut, feeling like a thousand writhing worms had wiggled their way into her organs. Her stomach clawed at itself, growling loud enough for her to hear it over the pain that pulsed through her existence. She felt wrong, somehow, like everything wasn’t fitting properly any more, like she wasn’t quite right.

 

With a groan she pushed herself upright, coughing and hacking violently, the warm taste of blood on her tongue. 

 

She couldn’t remember what she had dreamed, but the darkness pervaded, and she forced herself not to remember with a shudder. Whatever it was, she didn’t think it had been pleasant.

 

“Claudette?” a voice called, and she grimaced, pushing herself to her feet. She recognized that voice; it was Meg’s voice, something which, once upon a time, would have made her feel warm and happy. Now though, she forced herself to not react, stumbling away from all her work, towards the staircase that was half hidden by a collapsed wall.

 

Soon enough she could hear the steady pounding of two pairs of feet, and she found it a bit strange how she almost instantly recognized the other set.

 

‘ _ Meg and Myers are here huh?’ _ she thought to herself, stumbling over to the stairs. She hadn’t had much cause to go down there, other than to get supplies. It was mostly empty, just filled with shelves of random things she never really used. 

 

She slipped between the stacks of supplies, letting herself crumple in the corner of the room, hidden mostly by boxes. Even the short burst of movement had made her entire body ache, and she grumbled, quietly tugging the shelves closer around her.

 

She could still hear Meg calling for her, and soon enough the pounding of their feet echoed above her, sending pieces of dust fluttering down from the ceiling. She stifled a cough, feeling the dust tickle her throat.

She ignored the way emotions floated down on the fog, curling around her and sliding along her tongue. Fear, pain, guilt, excitement,  _ hope _

 

“Claudette?” Meg’s voice was above her now, and she heard the footsteps slowing down.

 

“What the hell is this place?” her voice floated down to Claudette, and she pushed herself further into the corner, wishing she could vanish into the shadows. “Myers, do you know?”   
  
Claudette couldn’t see but she knew Michael had never been here before, not to her knowledge. She was pretty sure he would have mentioned something if he had. Michael must have given some sort of response, because she heard Meg’s awkward hum, and the feet moving around above her again.

 

“There’s some stairs here,” Meg’s voice carried clearly down the stairs, and Claudette forced herself further into the corner, the wall pressing uncomfortably into her back. She snarled as Meg appeared, an almost silent noise, something that barely sounded human. She could see Meg’s feet moving under the shelves, slowly approaching her hiding spot.

 

She looked up just as Meg turned the corner, her eyes scanning along the shelves before landing on Claudette’s huddled form. 

 

Instead of the joy or excitement Claudette had expected, fear flowed from her friend, swamping her with the tantalizing taste of strawberries, calling out to her. 

 

Her stomach growled, and she grimaced, opening her mouth to speak, to try and explain, only to snap it shut when Meg stumbled backwards, a half-restrained scream echoing in her throat. Her hands flew out wildly, knocking several bottles over. They shattered on the ground with a crash, and she slowly uncurled herself, mouth watering. The fear was so tantalizing, and she slunk closer, crawling on all fours.

 

Footsteps pounded on the ground, and suddenly Myers was there, standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, and she could feel his emotions suddenly joining in with Meg’s, the taste of a caramel frappuccino mixing strangely with the sickeningly sweet strawberry.

 

She felt another growl deep in her throat, echoing across the land, and she pushed closer, heedless of the glass biting into her palms. 

 

Myers stepped forward, placing himself carefully in front of Meg, such a protective thing to do it stopped her in her tracks. It felt like such a  _ her _ thing to do, really: constantly taking hits in front of hooks to make sure the Killers went after her. He was bodyblocking for Meg.

 

The hunger came back with a force, and she felt saliva dripping down her chin, pooling beneath her feet. 

 

“What the hell is that thing?” Meg questioned, her terror seeping across the ground. Shadows danced along the edges of her vision, unintelligible whispers curling through her mind. 

 

Myers didn’t respond to Meg’s question, instead gently shoving her behind him, pushing them both towards the door. His knife was held out in one hand, pointed in her direction. She could feel a creeping fear, a thousand memories of pain bubbling up and bursting in her mind. 

 

She flinched back, the shadows curling back with her, swirling around her ankles and hissing angrily, climbing up her limbs. Her blood smeared black along the floor, glass piercing her palms. 

 

Myers grunted, head gesturing back towards the stairs, and Meg took the hint, turning and running towards it. Something in Claudette didn’t want to let the tantalizing taste of her fear go, and she lunged, mouth opened and teeth bared.

 

Myers let out a grunt of surprise, knife slashing outwards, catching her on the cheek. She howled in pain, the blood dripping down her chin, and she snarled, anger flaring. The taste of her own anger fueled her, and she slunk closer now, watching with annoyance as her meal escaped her. 

 

She watched as the survivor disappeared up the stairs, the Killer following her quickly, never taking his eyes off her. She paced, feeling the skin of her cheek knit itself up, leaving nothing but a trail of black blood on her face. Her teeth remained bared, shadows arching up above her, watching as her meals escaped her.

 

Myers gave her one last look before he turned and vanished up the stairs, the sound of footsteps fading as they both left, leaving her alone in her basement, the hunger coming back with a vengeance.

 

Her entire body shook, and she whimpered, curling in on herself. Phantom limbs caressed her, slick skin sliding against her own. She could see her reflection in the shards of glass, dancing with the light from above.

 

Her saliva glowed orange, her eyes burning a bright, bright red. Her skin was completely black, an endless void of nothing. Living shadows wrap around her body, the outline of claws hoving above her, vanishing and reappearing in equal measure.

 

She choked on a scream, wondering how her appearance became so monstrous, a second before it retreated, leaving her in nothing but her normal skin: no glowing eyes, no void-black skin, nothing but normal her.

 

“What the hell,” she rasped, feeling tears building in her eyes. She hauled herself upright, pushing her way towards the stairs, a low keening starting in her chest and echoing up her throat. She wanted her friends to come back. She wanted them to come back and tell her she wasn’t a monster. She wanted to curl up in Meg’s arms and cry, wanted them to assure her she was still the same person she was before.

 

But the memory of her thoughts haunted her, the way it had suddenly slipped her mind, the way they had become nothing but food to her, not people, not her friends. 

 

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, and she curled up halfway up the stairs, sobs echoing out of her chest.

 

_ ‘What have I become?’ _

_ ~~ _

“What the hell was that thing?” Meg asked when they were back at Claudette’s campfire. Myers looked more shaken up than she had expected, and his knife was gleaming with black blood. She shuddered at the image, the fleeting sight of that  _ thing _ lunging at them, arched claws and void-black teeth bared, nothing but burning red eyes distinguishing it as something alive. 

 

She had noticed a lot about Myers since they had fallen into the same sort of circle, the main thing being that when he was deep in thought, he was somehow quieter than usual. Not that he wasn’t normally silent as hell, but he somehow got more silent when he was thinking something.

 

It was what he was doing now, the way everything about him suddenly became still, unnaturally so, any noise he would have made completely silenced. She couldn’t even hear his breathing.

 

“You have a theory.” It wasn’t a question. Myers nodded anyways, and moved over to the pile of Claudette’s things. He picked up a medkit and very firmly pointed at it, and she frowned. Seeing she wasn’t understanding, he gestured to the whole clearing, before pointing at the medkit again, then the blood on his knife.

 

“You… think that was Claudette?” she asked, suddenly feeling sick. Somehow he managed to grimly nodded, and she felt her legs give out from under her.

 

Slumping to the ground, she stared sightlessly at the fire, thinking of the horrific monster she had just seen. There was no way that could be Claudette, right? 

 

Her mind, ever determined to screw her over, suddenly remembered what Benedict’s journal had said. How survivors drained of hope could become Killers. She thought of the vials spread about the place, the strange orange stuff Claudette had been having them collect for her. She thought of the science equipment and how Claudette had been trying to be a scientist herself, always talking about it with such passion.

 

She didn’t realize she was crying until Myers made a soft huff, and she looked up at him, feeling the tears dripping down her chin. 

 

He didn’t get it. Of course he didn’t get it. The only other Killers they had seen had still been  _ human _ in their own ways. He probably thought she would still be Claudette, just on the other side of the fence. 

 

But Meg knew. She knew how survivors that were drained of hope were dropped in the void, as said by Benedict, or turned into something  _ other _ .

 

If that had happened to Claudette….

  
Well, her friend would have probably been better off dead. 

 

“I have to go,” she said, struggling to stand up and fleeing the clearing. The others would need to be told. After all, they deserved to know what had happened to their friend.

~~

At some point, eventually, she picked herself off the floor, hauled herself up the stairs, and found herself sitting back at the lab table, staring sightlessly at the notes in front of her. She was out of blood, of serum, of time. Loosely, the hook swung in her grasp, somehow it’s weight comforting in the palm of her hand. 

 

On the edges of her vision she could see the shadows flickering, the steady rolling of the fog, in and out, in and out. Almost like it was breathing. She huffed a laugh, shaking her head at that. The fog,  _ breathing _ . Wouldn’t that be something?

 

Her grip tightened on the hook, and the shadows swirled and eddied, giving way to another presence in the clearing. She could sense it, instinctively, the way the fog seemed to move, whisper in her ear. 

 

She felt her humanity melt away, the taste of blood and fear heady on her tongue. 

 

A low growl and a click echoed in her throat, and she saw the instant the Killers stepped into her domain. 

 

The fog whispered to her, telling her stories, letting her know. 

 

The Pig, the Shape, the Nightmare. All different worlds, all different people.

 

It spoke of their history, told her of their deeds, and she grinned, claws scratching against the metal of the hook, feeling it shift in her hand, almost like it was vibrating, eager for blood.

 

They were afraid, as they should be. The taste of terror was a welcome reprieve from the hunger that gnawed on the inside, and she slipped into the shadows, watching and waiting. 

 

Slowly, they got closer and closer, until she could make out the words they were saying.

 

“Are you sure, Myers?” The Nightmare’s voice was distorted with his power, and she licked her lips, hunger growing. Soon, they would be in her domain. Soon, soon, soon….

 

She curled up on the wall, a mess of shadows and nothingness, bright eyes glowing bloody red. The fog flickered, for just a moment, and she could taste the  _ other’s _ influence on them, rotten and putrid against her tongue.

 

The shadows arched and grew, and she sat, suspended in darkness, watching as they came into view. She could make it quick, easy, the shadows collapsing into barely discernible shapes. Or she could drag it out, inflict them with fear and terror before falling upon them, destroying them completely.

 

Or, better yet It thought, It could claim them. Wash away the taint of the  _ Other _ and replace it with It’s own. Claim the sacrifices they made, gorge itself on everything. 

 

“Hello?” the Pig called out, and It grinned, slipping down the wall. It knew what It was going to do. “Claudette?”

 

The shadows pulled back with just a thought, and It grinned, stepping forward into the light. The hook swung from an abyss, voided claws wrapped loosely around it’s hilt. 

 

It could taste the sudden terror as It appeared, all three stepping backwards, trying to get away. 

 

“Claudette?” The Pig asked again, and It smirked, teeth shining red in the light. One claw shot forward, embedding itself in the chest of the Nightmare. It began It’s search, testing Its way through the corruption to find the center of the  _ Other’s _ power. It slowly fed off the scream, savoring the flavor of terror, candy and BBQ and apple juice, all swirling around her.

 

The Shape went for her, knife raised, and with a lazy flick of the hand he was impaled as well, claws already working on find the corruption in him, too. The Pig lunged, and It’s hand shot out, the hook piercing her side with a sickening thunk.

 

Suddenly, it was like everything made sense. Like, before, It had been consuming finger foods, just barely enough to get by. But this.  _ This _ .

 

Like a buffet presented before her, she could taste every single emotion as it passed through the hook. Suddenly, it wasn't just terror, but hope, pain, fear, loss, sadness,  _ everything _ .

 

She nearly released her hold on the Killers, so wrapped up in the suddenness of feeling full after being hungry for so long. She had been so hungry she hadn’t even realized she was hungry.

 

It was like she had suddenly come back to herself, realizing what she was doing, what she had been doing. It was too late to try and stop it, so instead she just let herself continue, the emotions feeding her and sustaining her, the claws digging through the layers of pain within the Killers, finding the root of the Entity. She could physically feel it when the corruption was uprooted, the way that everything seemed to blur as all her newfound energy was drained, her own darkness taking its place.

 

When the claws finally retreated, slipping back into the shadows, she fell back with them, feeling the fog twirl around her, slowly hiding her from view. The hook came out of Amanda’s side with a sickening squelch, and she gagged, turning to hide away from the sight. They all slumped to the ground, and she whispered her apologies as she fled.

~~

She didn’t know how long she wandered in the fog. All she knew was the hunger that gnawed on the inside of her stomach, the whispers of the fog that told her the secrets of the universe. She learned much in that time, so much, the information pounding in her head, the ancient whispers sharing what they knew. 

 

She learned what the Entity really was: a creature obsessed with becoming  _ all _ , which crawled along the edges of time and the end of space and the seconds between breaths and the space between atoms and burned with the ferocity of something ancient and immortal.

 

She learned that it was supposed to have consumed her, used her, created her in it’s own image and then destroyed her for the power it would wield. She learned her body had fought it off, retaining the essence of herself, but still becoming something  _ not _ herself. 

 

She learned the stories of those around her, the different universes that they came from. She learned that there were multiple universes, learned that she shared one with most others. She learned from the whispers as she moved through the fog, the subtle but constant feel of fear feeding her, whenever one of her own was in a trial. 

 

She wandered the fog, unsure, uncertain. She learned, pulled the knowledge out and took it into her own heart, collecting what she could do and what she couldn’t.

 

Eventually, she realized something, realized what she could do with her new fall from humanity. She was part of the Entity, but she also wasn’t. She was something different, something new, human but not quite, and if she could….

 

She wrung her hands as she pulled on the power, feeling the way that the shadows arched above her, claws dripping with darkness and ready to serve.

 

She had them lash out at the tree, ripping it to pieces, getting a brief glimpse at the sky above before everything faded back to the normal, dark forest. 

 

She felt the steady input of emotions, the fear that came from survivors when they were being chased, and she tilted her head, wondering, curious. Myers was in a match now, it seemed, the strange magic she implanted in him feeding her their fear. 

 

Another tree was obliterated, and she felt her heart in her throat, sick and disgusted.

 

She would use this power to the best of her abilities, and she would use it to free them all.

 

She would use this new-found curse to kill the Entity even if it killed her in the process. 

~~

Amanda hadn’t gone back to see that  _ thing _ since last time. She had no idea what it had done, or what it was, but she avoided going into the fog like the plague, lest she somehow end up back there.

 

Michael and Freddy had been fine of course, afterwards. She hadn’t been so lucky, and the hole in her shoulder had been making it more difficult to do her job now. She couldn’t bear to have it fixed, though, not really, because it just didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right to have it healed, if the healing wasn’t done by a dark skinned young adult with a bright smile and kind eyes.

 

Still, the Entity was getting restless. They could all feel it, the way it was bearing down on them, more than it ever had before. Killers kept disappearing for longer than they should, coming back with no memories except a dark shape and arching claws. She hadn’t experienced it herself, but with every one, the Entity seemed to get worse.

 

As she headed out for a trial, she glanced at the sky with a sigh. 

 

She didn’t even notice the dark shape lurking in the background.

~~

She felt guilty, for what she was doing, but the whispers in the back of her mind wouldn’t quit, and the hunger wouldn’t be sated, and she curled her claws around Amanda and pulled the Entity’s influence from under her skin, whispering apologies in a language she barely understood.

 

The darkness was creeping up on her every day, and she prayed that she would have enough time.

~~   
“Have you noticed something up with the Killers recently?” Laurie asked, sitting at the communal fire. Feng Min barely looked up at her statement, too busy checking and rechecking her tool box, but Bill and Ace looked towards her.

 

“They’ve been… off, recently,” Ace said, and Feng Min chimed in without looking up.

 

“Some of them are more reluctant to kill us now, with what happened with Claudette. The other half are trying and failing to pick up the slack,” she said, pulling out a pair of pliers and inspecting them. “Without the fear, we’re better, more well-rested and more likely to survive, which puts them on edge and makes their performance worse.”

 

“...Yeah, what she said,” Ace said, and Laurie couldn’t help a small snort, shaking her head. 

 

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who’s noticed something wrong,” she said, looking towards the fog. 

 

Nothing more was said, and before long they were swept away to the trial. 

 

Still, sharply honed instincts buzzed in the back of her head, a warning, a whisper. 

 

Something big was going to happen. Something big was going to go  _ wrong _ .

~~

Something Claudette learned, and found rather amusing, was the fact that the Entity didn’t really know she was alive. She had figured out how to tap into it’s thoughts, in a way, disjointed whispers in a language that hurt her ears and made her head feel like it was filled with cotton.

 

From it, she had pulled knowledge, what she always craved, always wanted. 

 

The Entity had thought her dead. It had meant for her to follow in Vigo’s footsteps, becoming a close enough approximation to itself that it could kill her and draw energy from her death.

 

But when she had changed the game, when she had hurt it, it had retaliated, leaving her for dead on a world that would soon have obliterated itself into the mist. But she had breathed, because of that little spark of  _ something _ it had left in her, and she had become  _ more _ .

 

It kept little track of what happened inside it’s dimensions, her existence close enough to its own now that she hardly registered. It barely even realized she’d stolen knowledge away  from it’s consciousness. 

 

Something was brewing, though, she could feel it, in the way the trees shivered and the fog twisted. Something big was coming, and she wondered if she should go find out.

 

The fog shifted around her ankles, climbing up her spine, and she vanished into the mist.

~~

“Something’s wrong,” Meg said, eyes staring frightfully up at the sky. What had once been a black void - before briefly being overtaken by false stars - was now a rolling mass of  _ something _ , echoing with flashes of dark light and burning with silent thunder. Every so often, a claw shot out of the writhing mass, before dipping back inside, the jagged edges gleaming far, far above them.

 

The survivors had all gathered, staring up at the sky, as the fog rolled and tumbled in time with the sky, parting to reveal a path through the trees.

 

“Something is very, very wrong.”   
~~

_ They thought they could disobey it, not feed it, not help it. They were  _ **_wrong_ **

 

_It gave them their powers, their abilities, their_ ** _lives_** _and they repaid it in spite and wrath and pettiness and starvation and it_ ** _would not stand for it_**.

 

_ They would learn, all of them, every single one. No more cross communication. No more friends. No more nothing. They would all learn, and the lesson would be burned into their brains, scarred in their skulls. _

 

**_I̤͍̤̘̖̯̱t̫̣̖͍͞ ̳̤̜w͉o̵̙̥̩u͙͕͉̯̖l̼d̦̙ ͉m̻̖̘̗͓̞ͅa͕͍̹̹̱̗̺͠ke̩̙̕ ̖͇̤̖̩ș̹̜͕̭͕u̞͓̻̮̟r̞̼͎̣͕͙e̩ ̹̠̥̹̣̫o̢̝͈̤̭̞ͅf̪̺̯͔̞ ̫i͉͖̱̯̜t͚̘͝_ **

~~

She followed the tugging, the feeling, towards the center. It wasn’t something she could understand, or even name, but it was so undeniably present that she was drawn into it anyways. The hook hung from her hand, the magic which fed it having long been replaced by her own new abilities, and it hummed in her hand.

 

When she broke part of the tree line, the fog swirled up and cascaded down her shoulders, hiding her from view. She could see, oddly enough, the others, a firm line between the survivors and the Killers, but it was undeniable that they were all present. 

 

Her heart ached seeing them all, even as part of her fed so easily on the emotions, a silent sigh as the hunger abated slightly. 

 

She wondered what this was about. The whispers only gave snippets of information, emotions she couldn’t name or explain slipping across her consciousness. There was one she recognized, though. Hunger seemed to burn bright even amongst the muted whispers.

 

Suddenly, the air shifted, and just like that everyone was on edge. She could see the sky shaking and changing, the Entity’s claws slowly descending. She could hear it’s whispers, louder now, angry, hungry. It changed, static in her brain, a forced comprehension that made her head feel like mush, angry angry angry--

 

“ **Y̢o̶̺͍̗͕͖̯̰u͏͚ ̥͙̜̘h̙̱̗̺̹̗̬a͈̙̘̦̫̫͘v̮̮̤ḙ̫̠̥̻̫n̘̯̺̤̙ͅ'̲̞͕̱͓̕t̻̤͕̗̤̭͕ b̵̠̱̟̜͚e̠e̟͇̮̬͔n͜ ̨̟̜d̞̝͕̤͙̟ͅo͕̕i̸̥̲̱̤̝ͅn̰̙g̷ ̞͚̱̫̳͚y̢̦̞̘̫̤̪o͟ṷ̺̬͠ͅͅr͟ ͍j̕ob͏͔͇̠̩s̸̥͉̺̜͕̜̝.̵͍ ̵̰͈͇̞͎ͅA̲̮͈̦͖̞̦n͜ ͓͈̱͚̭͚e̸͖x͚̝̜͕̩̞̥a̗̙͟m͙͘p͠l̼̥̯̩̥̗̫e͟ ̶̙̥̩m͎̞̬u̳̹̹s̶̖̖̮t̖̰̬̼̤͘ ͈̬̦̖͙͚̩b̷e̦̖̞̰̝ ͡m̮͓̹a̷̱ͅde͎̦.** ” 

 

The Entity screeched, its mere existence nearly forcing them all to their knees. She watched with horror as Freddy was pulled from the group, the sapped power revealing him to all of them. She saw the way Quentin flinched back, and the other survivors barely repressed their own shudders.

 

The claws descended further, and she knew it was going to kill him. The Entity was going to kill Freddy.

 

Freddy, who showed up at her campfire to get her to heal his wounds, who kept coming back for no reason. Who was somehow kind despite what he did, who treated her with respect and who protected her against the other Killers, and genuinely seemed to be her  _ friend _ .

 

She could feel the shadows rising, and she watched with horror as the claws descended, spear points heading right for him and--

 

“NO!” she screamed, not realizing she was moving until she had. Claws, half formed shadows, arched above her back, propelling her forward, the hook burning in her hand.

 

“Y͏̥͝O̗̤̳͢͟U̷̼͙̪̩ ̭̤̕͜ͅW̹̜͔̺̻I̻̗̟̬̕̕L̥̲͙L̶͈͓̤̩̻͎̺ͅ ̨̗̜͈̤̰̥̯̳N̛̟̳͚̯O̖̻̜͙͙T̗̘̝̪ ̶̜H̶̟̭͙̼͕̥̙U͙̥̻̭̮̺̱͜Ŗ͈̜̰̥̤̺̼͟T̛̲̩̯͉͘ ̛̭͉͕̖͚͖H̛̳͇̟̙͎I͏͝͏̝̼͔̫̤̠͎M̴̦̼͉̜̜͙̪̦̘,” she screamed, voice doubling over on itself, a horrific echo.

 

She felt the hook change, the strange pulsing magic of the Entity being taken over by her own, and she heaved a breath, standing in front of Freddy, claws arched and teeth bared, a perfect replica of Myers knife in her hand.

 

The black blood spewed, and she could feel the anger peaking, hear the echoing scream as the slashed claw retreated.

 

Her breath shuddered in her chest as she felt the pure transference of emotion from the hook blade where it had made contact. 

 

The hook was what transfered the emotions, the food, most effectively, and she could feel the flood of it overwhelming her, but she refused to fall. She refused to let the darkness overwhelm her, not while her friends were in danger.

 

“Well? What are you waiting for? RUN!” she screamed, turning back to them. Everyone was staring at her, jaws hanging open, and she closed her eyes, feeling the hook shift once again. She slammed the axe into the next claw, having a second instinct for when they would appear. The Entity gave another unholy shriek, rattling her brain and smothering her comprehension, making her grit her teeth in pain.

 

“Claudette?” Freddy asked, and she moved, pushing herself up, hidden blade slashing out and slicing another claw off. She scowled, eyes burning, tears gathering, waves of emotions and knowledge flooding over her. It was like with every hit she learned a little bit more. Images flashed in her brain: the Killer’s shack, the light bleeding from the walls, the thump thump thump. 

 

She slashed out again, wearing a perfectly replica of Freddy’s glove, the swish of the metal becoming a screech in her ears.

 

“GODDAMNIT, RUN,” she screeched, turning and looking back. They had but a few seconds before another claw lashed out, and she reached for the fog, forcing the Entity’s will to bend to her own. The Killer’s shack appeared in the distance, surrounded by fog, and she ran, grabbing Freddy’s hand as she went.

 

“What--” Amanda said, before she was being dragged along with them. The Killers, it seemed, didn’t have the same instinct for this as her fellow survivors did. She could see Meg and the others booking it to the shack, ducking inside seconds before the claw slammed into the ground outside.

 

She released her hold on the Killers, leaping forward, surprised when she found herself holding Sally’s bone saw. It slammed into the claw, causing it to retreat with a shriek, and she felt the wind whipping around, drowning out nearly everything else. The Entity was screaming now, and she reached back with her claws, yanking Michael forward and all but throwing him into the shack.

 

Amanda dashed past her, terror evident even on her pig face, and Sally blinked by with a scream.

 

Evan, Freddy, Max, Philip, and Anna all shot past her, ducking into the doorway and and out of sight. She turned around, noticing most of the other Killers standing too far away for them to get there in time. She had a few seconds to decide what to do.

 

She stared at them, everything seeming to slow down. Her hair whipped wildly in the wind, and she could feel the terror radiating off of them as they struggled through the winds. She thought, and she wondered. She didn’t know them, not personally, not even in passing, like she did the others. But they were still  _ people _ . Even if they were Killers now, somewhere underneath the spattered blood and grim they were  _ people _ .

 

She could feel her time drawing to a close, the world howling outside, everything speeding back up, and she made her decision.

 

She had always been too empathetic for her own good.

 

She reached out, feeling a claw pierce her side and she grabbed those closest to her, dragging them inside. The Entity blocked it all off, and she scowled, turning away from the terrified faces of the Doctor and the Clown as the claws erupted, blocking their path. 

 

She pulled herself free, ducking inside the shack, feeling her own claw arcing up, blocking the entrance, and sealing them inside. 

 

It didn’t matter, she told herself. Everyone else had made it inside. She could see the flickers at the edge of her vision, the fog curling around her shoulders like a cloak, and she turned from her friends, from the other survivors and Killers, instead facing the basement. Once, it would have terrified her. Ending up in the basement was as good as a death sentence for them. It was hard to get down there, and harder still to get out without being downed again.

 

But, she could feel the power humming under her feet, the throb of what could only be described as the Entity’s  _ heart _ . 

 

Her blood dripped from her shoulder, the black and red ooze congealing slowly as it slid down her arm. She barely felt the pain now anyways, not noticing the hands that reached for her, as if to heal her as she had done for them. 

 

She took the stairs two at a time, hook glowing white hot in her hand, the ghastly sight greeting her as she reached the bottom step. 

 

The four meat hooks glistened disgustingly in the eerie light, the cracks in the walls shining white, dancing along the splatters of blood and gore that covered the floor like a carpet.

 

The hook became a axe once again with barely a thought, and she held it in both hands, stepping towards the hooks. 

 

“Claudette, what are you doing?” Meg asked, and she barely spared a glance for her friend, the whispers reaching a crescendo in her head.

 

“I’m killing it,” she replied, slamming the hatchet into the pole holding the hooks up. She felt the reverberations up into her shoulder, grimacing in pain.

 

“Claudette what-- Stop you’re hurting yourself!” Meg said, and she felt a hand on her shoulder suddenly. She could feel the swirling emotions in the room, crashing around her, swirling and draining towards the center of the room.

 

She snarled, looking back towards her friend and yanking her shoulder away.

 

Most of the others stood on the stairs, or at the bottom of them, staring at her with something akin to fear in their eyes. She could feel the darkness pulling at her, a tidal wave of something not human trying to tug her back under, wanting her to give in and simply  _ feed _ . 

 

She pushed it away, turning back to the pillar, preparing to swing at it again.

 

Suddenly, there was another presence at her side, and she looked over just in time to see the Huntress swing her own axe at the pole, hitting it with a deafening thump. Wood chips sprayed, and she grinned viciously, slamming her own axe into the pole. She barely registered as the others slowly moved forward, some wielding the hatchets found in the lockers, the other Killers using their own weapons. Everyone tore into the basement, ripping up floorboards and taking down walls, the bright light flooding in more and more.

 

With a great crash, the four hooks came tumbling down, but she barely paid them any mind, solely focused on the area directly beneath where they had once stood. There, that was the best weak point. Her axe shifted into a crowbar, already slicked with blood, and she wondered briefly who’s weapon this used to be before she slammed it into the boards still in place.

 

With everyone working together, it took only a minute before the boards come up, revealing a black pulsing mass, glowing red veins covering it. She could see the way it moved, shifting with each pulse, and she licked her lips, already able to feel the power emanating from it. It shined sickly in the light, and she felt her own claws arch above her, ready to go for the kill.

 

“Claudette…?” Meg asked, and she realized everyone else had stopped, staring at her again. The fog whispered to her, and she couldn’t help but laugh. Of course it was one last defence. Only she could see it for what it really was. 

 

“What now?” Amanda asked, and a few of the others nodded, the confusion spiraling into fear as she only laughed in response.

 

“Now, my dear,” she said, feeling her eyes glowing, the claws arched above her, an ancient goddess of death and mercy, stood before mortals. 

 

“N҉̭̗̬̰o̜͝ͅw̹͔̺ ̷̬̭̼̗̘̝w̦͔͓̝̺͖e̶ **͏̫̙̱̦͓̱͔k͏̸̯̳̗͖̹̳̦̝i̠͟l̮͕͙͍̱͝l̵͙̲̤̤͚͖ ̣̼̕i̱͎̖̙̗͠ţ̸̢̱͙.̵̡͇̞̩̠.** ”

 

Her claws plunged downward, piercing the heart of the beast. She could hear it’s screams even as she laughed, her mind flooding with everything.

 

The last thing she saw before she blacked out was her friends staring at her in horror. 

~~

_ She burned, It burned, they burned. The screams echoed, doubling and redoubling, crashing against each other and pushing the boundaries of reality. The world burned and they burned with it, howls of pain, of pleasure, of something in between as the world redoubled, shifting shapes and echoes of lost worlds layering over each other, ever changing. _

 

_ Claws stabbed upward, piercing the sky, burning and pulsing and shaking, clawing at the air as if to fend of an attacker.  _

 

_ They watched, the fear swirling through the air, terror a fine mist over the fake lands.  _

 

_ The world crumbled, and then reformed, taking all of them with it. _

_ ~~ _

They stood amongst the wreckage, fixing it without a thought. What once was a shack now shimmered with an angry light, left as nothing but rubble as the world around it rebuilt itself.

 

Their head tilted, confused, as the others crawled out of the wreckage, looking none the worse for wear, despite the terror that surrounded them.

 

“Claudette?” one questioned, and They turned to her. 

 

_ Meg _ whispered part of them

 

They titled their head at her, knowledge flooding through their brain to quickly to comprehend. 

 

“... No, not quite,” they replied, voice sounding strange to their own ears. It seemed to double over itself, both completely right and so unbearably wrong at the same time. 

 

“What the hell do you mean, ‘not quite’?” one of the others asked, the gloved hand swishing in the light. He looked angry, as did the others, and they titled their head the other way, looking around.

 

“Exactly what it sounds like. I- We are not quite your friend, yet we are not quite… not, either,” they replied, looking around. 

 

“What do you mean?” One of the others asked, her strange pig head frowning.

 

_ Amanda _ whispered the voice in their head, holding just a tinge of sadness

 

“Your… friend… When she attacked the Entity… She became it. And it became her.” They said it with the authority of a professor, but somehow still managed to sound confused. They didn’t understand this. The feelings swirled in the back of their head, both the fond affection the one named Claudette had held, and the strange feelings of the Entity. It wasn’t something they could quantify, not in any way the humans would understand.

 

Still, Claudette, despite everything, was winning, and so they waved their hand, a portal appearing in the air before the ones called Survivors.

 

“Claudette…. She is still here. In a sense. She lives through us now. Or maybe We live through her. We are unsure. But it doesn’t matter much. She wants you to go home. She wants you to be free,” They said, pushing the tear towards the survivors. The Entity was screaming in the back of Their head, something they could only vaguely quantify as fear echoing from it. It was fading fast, pushed away by the pure onslaught of the remainder of Claudette, the human’s fierce love for her friends pushing it down. If They had to say, They would say that They were more Claudette than Entity, at least in this. 

 

“So we could go through that… and get home?” one of the other survivors asked, staring at the portal with an open hunger. They couldn’t bring up his name, but brief images of hooks falling and calmed crows flashed through Their mind.

 

“In a way. We can offer two ways out. One is we place you back where you came from. Same time, same place, same everything. Each separate, of course,” They explained, before waving Their hand again. More portals appeared, each floating in front of one of the survivors.

 

“Of course, that would mean separation, not only for time and space, but dimension. Some of you are not of the same world. For the second option, We could drop you all off at the same time, same place, same universe. Those of you who would have friends and family in other worlds would lose that, but you would all have each other, and likely able to get help easier,” They said, Claudette whispering in Their ear. She wanted her friends not to hurt, and knew they would have a lot of problems after what they had all gone through. They wanted to help her friends, as a nod to her own care.

 

“... I want to stick together,” one said, the same one who had spoken before. Slowly, one by one, the others nodded, several from the other universes looking unsure.

 

“There’s not a lot left for me at home, not now,” one whispered to herself, the tired-looking boy walking over to comfort her.

 

They nodded, condensing the portals into one. They had already felt the others moving around in their world, dropping them off at their own times. They cared not for those others, who they were or what they may do. Claudette only cared for these, and so They did too.

 

“What about…?” one asked, the one called Meg, her head nodding towards the Killers. They stood, tense and ready, looking as if to attack Them if They moved, but They paid them no attention.

 

“It matters not to you. We imagine some of them will be joining you soon. Claudette cared for them, and if she would give them a chance, We would hope you would, too,” They said, and Meg nodded, giving Them one last, sad, desperate look before vanishing through the portal. They turned to the Killers, feeling the corruption festering in their souls, and it plunged Their claws into them, ripping it out. They had power now, and They would use it. It was easy enough to turn back the clock, bring back the humanity of all of these Killers.

 

Several collapsed to the ground, coughing and hacking, and They watched, disinterested. Already They could feel the strain on Their powers, so much usage in such a small time wearing Them down. But it mattered not. With every breath the Entity got quieter, and soon They knew only they and Claudette would remain. And, perhaps after that, They, too, would fade into obscurity.

 

“A gift, from Claudette to you, through Us. Use it wisely?” They said, although it became more of a question at the end. The newly-humanized killers stared up at her, devoid of deformities, of powers, nothing but bloodstained people looking for a new chance.

 

“Will you offer us the same choice?” the one who had previously had the pig head asked, hands running over her own face like she couldn’t believe it was actually back to normal. Several others were having a similar experience, it seemed. 

 

“Yes. You may all leave together, or We will return you to your own time. It matters not to Us,” They said, eyes narrowed. Claudette did not know all of them, but They could see the thoughts of theirs just as clearly as if those thoughts were Their own. The Entity knew it’s playthings, after all. 

 

“And what about you?” one asked, looking towards Them with concern. They shrugged Their shoulders, the joints rolling unnaturally.

 

“We will remain, We suppose. Starve to death; make sure there is no more of this,” They said, gesturing to everything around Them. 

 

“...You don’t have to starve,” the girl, Amanda, offered quietly, and They gazed at her.

 

“Do not presume to think that your Claudette would allow you to kill for her. We are merely a vessel for her word. You will choose which offer to take; no other options,” They said harshly, an unfamiliar feeling pushing up from the depths. Amanda nodded, and They accepted it with a nod of Their own.

 

“I want to stick together,” she said, reaching out and grabbing the hands of the two closest to her. They seemed just as eager to stick to her, and they nodded, looking at the two others.

 

_ ‘Myers and Freddy’ Claudette whispered, voice choked. _

 

“Very well,” They said, looking towards some of the others. Some of them still had the taint sticking to them, and with a flash They disposed of those Killers. If the other Killers noticed, they didn’t say anything, only a few stepping forward.

 

“We’ll stick together, as well,” the lead said, nodding to a duo. The Trapper, They believed he had been called. Behind him the Wraith and the Hillbilly stood, newly human bodies still shaking unsteadily. They tilted Their head in aquicence, and the three joined the others. In a flash, another woman had joined them, her regret and remorse clearly visible.  _ The Nurse _ , Claudette whispered. 

 

“I… I just want to go home,” one of the others rasped, and They looked towards the girl, her kimono ripped and covered in blood. They had reverted her to her own body before she was attacked, and They nodded, letting a portal appear. Without another word she stepped through, disappearing.

 

“I… do not want to go back at all. Please,” another asked, her voice cracked and breaking. They knew she had suffered much in her life; forced cannibalism wasn’t typically pleasant. So, with a sad, short nod, They killed her, leaving nothing left. She would be at peace now, They hoped. 

 

“I want to go home,” one who wore the faces of others moaned, and They sent him back with a flash. All that was left was the one who wielded axes like it was second nature. 

 

“I… be better. Go with others.” The tall woman made her way over to the remaining killers, and with a quick nod, they vanished, dropped where the survivors had been. 

 

Alone, They stood, surrounded by nothing but empty realms and crows, the fog curling over Their shoulders like a long-lost friend.

 

With a sigh, They turned away, eyes scanning the horizon. In the distance, a small flicker appeared, and They quirked a small smile. 

 

It was time to return to the campfire.

~~


	5. Chapter 5

They had a story. They told the world they had been kidnapped by some crazy mad man in the woods, who made them compete in fucked up trials à la Saw, killing those who didn’t succeed. The story spread and sold, and Meg knew she could live off the royalties of it for years, at least. 

 

Still, she couldn’t help but feel like she was still stuck there, in that hell. She couldn’t fall asleep in the dark anymore, and always had to have a light nearby, with the sound of fire crackling merrily from her phone. The others had the same problem, but they didn’t talk about it. Not to each other. At least, not unless they were all getting together and getting drunk, offering tearful toasts to their lost member.

 

Claudette’s funeral was a quiet affair. They spun a story of how she had sacrificed herself to finally let them escape from the madman, and all around the world, tiny memorials were held. But her funeral was private, and each of the survivors showed up, bunches of amaranth and bog laurel and sweet william and primrose clutched in their hands. The Killers showed up too, quiet and unobtrusive, although she was certain that the three - Myers, Freddy, and the Pig - were crying the entire time. 

 

She preferred not to think about it, though. She focused on moving forward, only thinking back when she talked with her therapist. 

 

Last she heard, Quinten and Laurie were going to college together, Tapp and Adam had gone into writing together, Kate was off singing, and Nea was back to her usual thing. Dwight had gotten a job and worked his way through university while working on becoming an artist, and Jake shared his apartment. 

 

David fell off the map, appearing and disappearing all the time. She didn’t know what he was up to, but he seemed alright, and kept in contact with them enough that she didn’t worry much. Bill and Ace shared an apartment near her, and Feng Min had gone back home, making up and staying with  with her parents .

 

She didn’t know what the Killers were up to, really, just that the two trios were living together, and finding their way through the new age. The Huntress had opened up a small self-defense facility with the Nurse, and she was pretty sure the others were helping with that. She didn’t know, though, and she didn’t ask. Claudette would want them to be better, but to Meg, they would never be anything more than Killers. She kept in touch, enough to make sure they were alright, but other than that, she refused to get near them. 

 

They reminded her too much of everything she had lost. 

 

As for her, well: She did what she always did best. She ran. She ran and ran and ran, and pretended that she was still doing it for fun, and not because she constantly felt like someone was breathing down her neck, like she was running away from something. But it was fine. It wouldn’t work forever, of course, but it worked for now. Maybe at some point she would figure herself out.

 

But until that day, the pounding of her feet on the concrete and the breath in her lungs would have to be enough.


End file.
